Blaise Zabini and the Order of the Phoenix
by Akamu
Summary: A/U Blaise Zabini is just another Slytherin. That is, until fifth year when OWLs, girls, Gryffindors, and the new Defense teacher decide to make his life as complicated and unpleasant as possible. And what does the Order have to do with all this?
1. Mirror, mirror

Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
  
Every class has its invisible person. They aren't literally invisible, of course, but they are the people that no one really notices, the ones you don't really know anything about.  
  
My name is Blaise Zabini, and I'm that person.  
  
Contrary to what most people think, I am not a girl (I will never forgive my parents for giving me a gender-neutral name), nor am I secretly gay. I was appropriately shocked when I learned through the grapevine that I was having passionate love affairs with Terry Boot, Oliver Wood, and Harry Potter all at once. I hadn't had any idea this was going on, so how others could find out, I haven't the slightest clue.  
  
Unlike many of my Slytherin counterparts, my parents were never Death Eaters. On the other hand, they weren't openly against the Dark Lord, either, so they were automatically sorted into the "no good" category. This always drove my mother crazy because, to her, status was everything. Since they weren't on either side of the war, they couldn't get into either social group, regardless of how much money they had.  
  
It's kind of ironic. My parents were outsiders by fate, while I am an outsider by choice. I'm sure Mother is rolling in her grave.  
  
My name is Blaise Zabini, and I am invisible.  
  
The funny thing about invisible people is how they tend to turn up where you least expect them.  
  
******  
  
"Blaise! Blaise dear, wake up!"  
  
I opened my eyes slowly and squinted at the clock, which read six-thirty. Six-thirty in the bloody morning. Groaning, I rolled over and tried to grab a bit more sleep. Unfortunately, Gran had other plans.  
  
"Blaise! Get up, or we'll miss the train!"  
  
Ah, yes. September first again, my very favorite day of the year. Time to return to the hordes of brainless half-wits who reside in the hallowed halls of Hogwarts. It was a miracle my classmates had lived to see their fifth year, as most have the IQ of a turnip.  
  
"Shut your trap, you old bag," I muttered into my pillow, still unwilling to leave the comfort of my bed. "The train doesn't leave `til eleven."  
  
I lay listening to my grandmother bustle about the house in an obvious panic. Every single year, she woke me up at some ungodly hour to be sure I wouldn't miss the train, and every year, I was the very first person on the platform. It was something of a tradition at our house, but I wasn't about to hurry it along.  
  
At six-forty-five exactly, Gran stomped up the stairs and threw open my door. She was actually quite pretty, as far as grandmothers go. She was barely fifty, but she looked thirty-five. People used to think Gran and Mother were sisters instead of mother and daughter. At the moment, however, she wasn't looking even remotely pretty.  
  
"BLAISE KERRIGOR ZABINI! Get out of bed this instant, or there will be hell to pay!"  
  
I sighed in resignation. I'd been expecting this, of course, but I always hoped that perhaps this year she'd have the decency to let me stay in bed `til seven, or at least refrain from using my middle name. But this year, like every year before it, that hope proved futile.  
  
I scowled at my grandmother, who was still glowering at me from the doorway, and who I knew would refuse to move an inch until I was out of bed. "All right, all right. Keep your hair on," I said peevishly, slowly dragging myself out from under the sheets.  
  
Gran's pursed her lips together in annoyance, but chose to ignore my comment. "I'm sending Sandy up here in fifteen minutes and you'd better be dressed by then or--"  
  
"--or you'll turn me into a toad and sell me to the apothecary," I recited dully, drifting over to my dresser and idly sifting through its contents. "I know, I know."  
  
Gran huffed and rolled her eyes, but finally left, thankfully. Normally, she was much more agreeable, but there was something about September first that stressed her out to an extreme level. It was kind of amusing, really. Well, in retrospect. When it was actually happening, you just wanted to hide `til it was over.  
  
Ten minutes later, I was in front of my bureau, inspecting my reflection in the mirror. I'd gotten a slight tan over the summer and grown maybe an inch, but other than that I looked exactly the same as last year. My pitch black hair, damp from the shower, was still straight and shaggy, and I was still painfully thin. The only feature I liked was my deep blue eyes. I like to think they make me look intellectual, but Draco says they're just creepy.  
  
"I do hope you're not wearing that out in public," the mirror commented haughtily.  
  
I considered what I was wearing (a black jumper and black slacks) before raising and eyebrow at the mirror. "And what, pray tell, is wrong with my clothes?"  
  
"They're so dark, dear," it replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You look like you're off to rob a bank. It just doesn't suit you." I opened my mouth to argue, but the mirror cut me off. "And don't tell me that's what you always wear, because that's precisely the problem. I can't remember when I last saw you in an actual color. Why don't you wear that lovely blue jumper your aunt sent for your birthday?"  
  
I scowled fiercely. "I hate blue," I muttered, deciding not to mention that I wouldn't touch that shirt with a ten-foot pole simply because it was from my aunt. I preferred to forget I had an aunt at all.  
  
"Well, how about green, then? Or maybe--"  
  
"Master Blaise, sir?" The house-elf slipped in the door and bowed apologetically. "Sorry to interrupt, sir, but Mistress Mable wanted me to check on you."  
  
"Don't worry about it, Sandy," I said, for once grateful for Gran's pre- Hogwarts Express stress level. "It wasn't anything important."  
  
With that, I hurried out of the door and down the steps before the mirror could yell anything after me. It wasn't until I'd reached the living room that I realized I was running from an inanimate object, and one that I'd been arguing with for the past five minutes, to boot.  
  
I really am pathetic sometimes, I thought, flopping down on the couch in front of the television.  
  
I'm not especially fond of Muggles, but whichever one invented the TV was a bloody genius. Even ignoring how difficult it must've been to accomplish without magic, the concept of being able to get shows and news and pretty much anything else with just one medium was completely new to wizards. The closest thing we have is the WWN (Wizarding Wireless Network), but that's just a radio station, and an awful one at that. It's mostly those atrociously sappy ballads that witches seem to like so much.  
  
I flipped through the channels with only a vague idea of what I was passing over. I didn't really care either, since we'd be leaving soon anyway.  
  
"Hey, turn it back for a second."  
  
I glanced up to see my grandfather strolling through the doorway, then obligingly went back a few channels, stopping on some sports network. I sighed, watching highlights from last night's soccer game flash across the screen. "Why do you watch this rubbish, Gramp? I know you're a Muggle and all, but Quidditch is much more interesting."  
  
Gramp dropped onto the couch beside me and grinned. "Maybe, but they don't show Quidditch games on TV, do they?"  
  
I smiled slightly. "No, I suppose not."  
  
One thing I never mention to people at school is my grandfather's Muggleness. It's not that I'm embarrassed of him, it's just that I'd be eaten alive if my classmates knew about it. I'd be in it even worse if they found out we had *gasp* Muggle contraptions in our home. My life as a Slytherin would be over. So, no matter how guilty it might make me feel, I keep mum about the whole thing. 


	2. Dragons and Wenches and Toads, oh my

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. So there.  
  
A/N: I realize the first chapter wasn't very exciting, but I had to get that out of the way before I could get into the story. Besides, if you see Blaise's family, it's easier to understand why Blaise is the way he is. This will probably end up A/U, seeing as OotP comes out in a couple weeks, but we'll see how far I get before then.  
  
******  
  
"E-excuse me?"  
  
I glanced up from my book (A Comprehensive History of Vampires and Vampire Lore by Alexis Iusopov) and noted a very fidgety student standing in the compartment doorway. Realizing he was waiting for some sort of response, I leveled a glare at him and snapped, "What?"  
  
The boy's eyes widened slightly. "Um, can I-- I mean, could I--er, I'll just leave, shall I?" he stammered, then turned and all but sprinted down the corridor.  
  
I rolled my eyes in annoyance. First years really were pathetic.  
  
I tried to return to my book, but I'd barely finished ten pages when another first year came in. And another after that. By the time I heard a forth person walk in, I was ready to start hexing people.  
  
"Oh, honestly!" I muttered peevishly, slamming my book shut. "What does a person have to do around here to read a book in peace!"  
  
The newcomer tsked. "Temper, Blaise, temper." I looked up in surprise. Draco smirked before lounging on the bench across from me. "Now, if I didn't know better, I'd say you weren't happy to see me."  
  
"I'd think you would be used to that by now," I replied coldly, reopening my book and flipping to the page I'd left off on.  
  
Draco ignored the comment and raised an eyebrow at my choice in reading material. "Reading up on your family history, are you?"  
  
I spared him an exasperated glance, then said, "Actually, I'm beginning to think you're part vampire. That would certainly explain the paleness... the aversion to light... along with that annoying habit of yours of sleeping in coffins..."  
  
Draco gasped and stared at me in mock-surprise. "How do you know about that?"  
  
"Haven't you heard?" I asked dully. "I'm so flamboyantly gay even the circus refused to take me." I leaned forward and said slowly, "And I've been watching you."  
  
Draco stared for a moment, then burst out laughing, something truly disturbing if you're not used to it. I allowed myself a satisfied smirk while Draco clutched a stitch in his side and attempted to control himself. "Oh, sweet Merlin... that was so creepy," he said between gales of laughter, wiping a tear from his eye. "The look on your face..."  
  
If any Gryffindors had walked in at that moment, I'm sure they'd have died of shock.  
  
My friendship with Draco is an odd one. Draco Malfoy is, without a doubt, the biggest ass I've ever met in my life. He's rich, spoilt rotten, despises anything and everything Muggle, and isn't afraid to let people know about it. Well, most of the time. When he won't get in trouble.  
  
He's also my best friend.  
  
If I wasn't involved, I'd think the whole situation was hilarious. The son of a half-blood being friends with the son of a Death Eater. Utterly impossible unless, of course, the Death Eater's son doesn't know. Aside from the whole blood issue, we're not all that different, except Draco loves attention and is obsessed with becoming like his father. It's kind of scary sometimes, but what can you do?  
  
Draco and I lazed away the morning playing Exploding Snap (Draco was crushing me) and filling each other in on our summer happenings. Crabbe and Goyle wandered in at some point, but they were as interesting to talk to as furniture, so I ignored them, just like I ignored the rapidly changing scenery speeding by the window.  
  
All things considered, I was having a pretty good day until just after lunch. The compartment was littered with empty boxes and wrappers, the remnants of the snacks we'd picked off the cart.  
  
"You know," I mused, grabbing another Chocolate Frog from a quickly diminishing pile, "I never have caught that woman's name."  
  
Draco looked up from throwing Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans at a dozing Crabbe. "What?"  
  
"The lady with the cart," I said thoughtfully. "I wonder if anyone knows who she is. I've never thought to ask before."  
  
"Blaise, you really need to get out more," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "Who cares, anyway? All I need to know is whether she's got the candy I want. Beyond that, it doesn't really matter."  
  
I was about to argue when the compartment door slid open and the Supreme Wench (better known as Pansy Parkinson) and her entourage swept into the cabin without so much as a by-your-leave.  
  
"There you are, Pansy," Draco commented. "I was beginning to think you'd missed the train."  
  
"Damn," I said, then shrugged. "Well, there's always next year, I suppose."  
  
Pansy glared at me (wow, that's new), but turned to Draco instead. "I was wondering if we could sit here. The compartment we were in before is being overrun by first years, so is it all right if we stay?" she asked sweetly, batting her eyelashes.  
  
I gagged silently in the corner.  
  
Draco raised an eyebrow at me in warning.  
  
Oh, right. No hassling the girlfriend. Gotcha.  
  
Of course, Pansy noticed this and looked sharply at me.  
  
I blinked innocently. "What?"  
  
Trying to salvage the situation before anyone was maimed, Draco quickly said, "Of course you can stay here."  
  
Pansy grinned smugly at me before sitting beside Draco--actually, it was more like on top of him--and motioning for the two girls with her to sit as well. Millicent Bulstrode, a real ogre of a girl, smacked Crabbe in the head, effectively awakening him, and made him move so she'd have room.  
  
The last one, Cassandra Cretian, realized there was no more room on that side and decided to sit on the other bench. Right in between Goyle and me. I scooted as far away from her as I could, while Goyle just looked dumbfounded. Well, he usually does, but this was an extreme level of confusion. Maybe he'd never seen a girl (if you can call her that) that close up before. Poor sap.  
  
I sighed and watched the scenery go by as Pansy launched into a long, detailed account of her family's trip to Venice. I tried to tune her out, but somehow her loud, obnoxious voice kept breaking into my thoughts. Go figure.  
  
Half an hour later, I was about ready to kill something. Why, why, WHY did Draco have to pick Pansy, of all the girls in the world? Not even Granger was this annoying! Sweet Merlin, just take me now and spare me more pain...  
  
Just when slamming my head against the wall repeatedly was sounding pretty good, I had an epiphany.  
  
Blaise, you moron! Why don't you just LEAVE?  
  
Good question.  
  
I stood up and made excuses about needing some air before quickly making my exit and sliding the door shut behind me.  
  
"Okay, now what?" I wondered aloud, glancing up and down the deserted hallway.  
  
No use standing here all day, Zabini. Let's get a move on.  
  
"Dear Lord, now I'm talking to myself," I muttered. "I really do need to get out more."  
  
Feeling extremely stupid just standing there, I began wandering down the corridor, not sure where I was going and not really caring either. I was just grateful for the peace and quiet.  
  
BAM!  
  
"Bloody cat!"  
  
...or not.  
  
A black streak flew out of a compartment ahead of me with a large ginger one in hot pursuit, which in turn was followed by Neville Longbottom and Hermione Granger. It'd have been hilarious if the whole lot of them hadn't been heading straight for me.  
  
"The things I get myself into..." I said, trying to dodge to the side and avoid the whole thing. The black thing, however, would have none of that. It leapt onto my chest and clung to my robes, its claws digging fiercely into my skin. I grabbed it, meaning to throw it off me, but then noticed what it was.  
  
"Athena?"  
  
The cat in question took advantage of my sudden lack of movement to clamber onto my shoulder. I had barely noticed a green something sticking out of its mouth before another animal slammed into me, hissing and clawing.  
  
"Crookshanks, no!" Granger and Longbottom had arrived, both slightly breathless, and Granger was now trying to convince the... THING to get off of me.  
  
I managed to grab the creature by the nape of the neck and flung it in Granger's direction. The moment it touched the ground, it tried to throw itself at me again, but Granger caught it in a bear hug so all it could to was hiss and growl.  
  
"What in the bloody hell was that all about?" I snapped angrily. "Is there a reason your... pet was trying to kill my cat, or do you just set it after random animals for fun?"  
  
"I could ask you the same thing," Granger spat, having regained both her breath and her temper.  
  
"What are you on about, Granger?" A few heads peeked out of compartments, no doubt trying to figure out what all the noise was about. Wonderful. All I needed at the moment was a huge crowd to stare at me.  
  
"That cat just ate Trevor!" Longbottom exclaimed, sounding torn between anger and grief.  
  
Trevor? Who the hell is Trevor? Wait a minute...  
  
I looked more closely at the green thing in Athena's mouth and realized it was a toad. Ah, hello there, Trevor...  
  
I held my hand under Athena's mouth. She looked at me pleadingly, then reluctantly dropped the toad into my hand. I looked over it quickly, noting that it seemed absolutely terrified, but no worse for wear. "Here," I said, tossing Neville his toad. "You might want to keep a closer eye on that thing. The next thing it meets might not be so friendly."  
  
With that, I turned and pushed past a few people gathered in the hallway, heading for my compartment. Even listening to Pansy's chatter was preferable to this.  
  
Damn Gryffindors...  
  
*******  
  
Faxton: Thank you SO much for reviewing. I wasn't sure if anyone would be interested in a fic not about Harry or some Mary Sue (gag!). What do you mean, you want to see where the plot is going? You're not actually expecting this to have a point, are you? Oh damn, I'd better get to work then... just kidding. I do have some idea what I'll be doing with this, but it all depends on whether the characters and that bloody plot bunny will cooperate. 


	3. Of Sortings and Sudden Awakenings

Disclaimer: Everything you recognize is J. K. Rowling's. Anything else is mine.  
  
*******  
  
"Brady, Hannah."  
  
A short girl in pigtails nervously moved forward to sit on the stool, looking decidedly green. The rest of the first years were huddled together at the front of the Great Hall, watching the Sorting anxiously and staring around them in awe. I smiled, thinking how terrifying my own Sorting had been.  
  
Now, of course, it was just boring.  
  
As the Sorting Hat was placed on Hannah's head, I turned my attention to the conversations buzzing around me.  
  
"--so I said, 'no way,' but he said, 'yeah," so I said--"  
  
"Did you hear about that attack near Bath?"  
  
"That girl's been up there forever! I wish the Hat would get a move on so I can eat."  
  
"--fourteen Muggles! And the Ministry still says it's the work of renegades, the idiots--"  
  
"So who do you think will be teaching Defense this year?" a third year asked, indicating the empty seat at the staff table.  
  
"No idea," another girl answered. "But I heard they had to look outside the country this time. No one wants to take a job that's jinxed!"  
  
"A Galleon says it's an American," said a burly sixth year.  
  
"If it is, I'm transferring to Durmstrang. Everyone knows Americans are a few beans short of a box."  
  
"Better that than a bloody Frenchman. Probably blow himself up before the first week was over."  
  
"And us along with him. But why isn't he here, then?"  
  
"Maybe he's sick."  
  
"Maybe they couldn't find anyone."  
  
"Maybe they're letting Snape teach it." Several people laughed at this, imagining how the Gryffindors would react.  
  
"So Blaise, are you going to tell me what happened on the train?" Draco asked. "You looked like hell when you came back in the compartment."  
  
That was an understatement. My robes had been shredded where Granger's monster had latched onto me, seemingly intent on chewing off my leg. I'd changed before leaving the train, of course, but I'd received quite a few odd looks from passengers who'd seen me in such a state.  
  
I relayed the incident to Draco, who seemed to find it incredibly funny, especially when I described how I'd nearly been murdered by a cat. I made a mental note to have Athena leave dead mice in Draco's bed.  
  
Thankfully, I was spared further ridicule when the Sorting finally ended with "Vaseki, Lionel" becoming a Gryffindor.  
  
Headmaster Dumbledore stood and beamed at the assembled masses. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts. There is only one thing I would like to say before we enjoy the feast the house elves have so graciously prepared, and that is: /Nunca escuche a un hombre que lleva amarillo cerca de una colmena/. Thank you."  
  
There was a light spattering of applause as the headmaster sat down. Some people laughed (mostly Ravenclaws), but most just looked confused.  
  
"That old man gets more senile every year," Draco said, ignoring the gasps from the first years as the food appeared and reaching for a bun.  
  
"He's not senile," I said with a smile. "He's just got a strange sense of humor."  
  
Draco looked doubtful. "Really? What did he say then?"  
  
I smirked. "'Never listen to a man wearing yellow near a beehive.'"  
  
"And this is supposed to convince me Dumbledore isn't mad?"  
  
"Oh, he's mad, all right," I replied. "I just said he wasn't senile."  
  
I ducked as a carrot flew at my head. "Shut up, Zabini."  
  
Dinner progressed as usual, with annoying first years making attempts at conversation with older students (none too successfully, I might add) and a few obligatory death glares directed at the other houses. It was mildly entertaining watching Crabbe and Goyle stuff their faces like they hadn't eaten in months, but once they started on their fourth helping it was just nauseating. It was no wonder they looked like trolls.  
  
Once the remnants of dessert had disappeared, the headmaster stood once again. "Before I send you off to bed, I have a few start-of-term announcements," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling, as per usual. "The Forbidden Forest is, of course, forbidden. Also, please note that magic is not to be used in the corridors between classes.  
  
"As you may have noticed, there is an empty seat at the staff table. Due to unfortunate events, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher has been delayed and was unable to attend this evening. However, I can assure you that she will arrive in time to teach classes tomorrow morning. I trust you will all treat her with the respect she deserves."  
  
Dumbledore's gaze seemed to pause on me for a moment, sending chills down my spine. What was the old man up to? "Now, off you go!"  
  
Whispers erupted around me as we stood and headed for the exit.  
  
"Did he say 'she'?"  
  
"What do you think made her miss the feast?"  
  
"Maybe she got stuck in traffic."  
  
"How would she get stuck in traffic? Wouldn't she just Apparate?  
  
"Maybe she splinched herself!"  
  
"Oh great, it's Quirrel all over again..."  
  
In the Entrance Hall, the student body split into their respective houses, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw turning up separate staircases, Hufflepuff disappearing down some obscure corridor, and Slytherin heading deep into the dungeons and stopping before a blank stretch of wall.  
  
"All right, listen up, 'cause I'm only saying this once," Alex DeWar, a sixth year prefect, snapped. "The password is 'Runespoor'. This will change periodically, and if you forget it, you'll have to wait outside the Common Room until someone comes along." He glared meaningfully at the first years. "I suggest you don't forget it."  
  
"Get a move on, will you DeWar?" called someone from the back of the crowd. "We'd like to get in while we're still young." The Slytherins murmured in agreement, some yawning widely to emphasize their point.  
  
DeWar scowled, but turned and opened the wall, revealing the Slytherin Common Room. The first years gathered near the fireplace where DeWar lectured them on maintaining the status quo. The rest of us shuffled gratefully past the soft green couches and chairs and down the stairways to the dorms.  
  
Draco stopped before the second-to-last door, which held a plaque that read "Fifth Years", and pushed it open. I followed him inside and immediately collapsed on my four-poster, earning an annoyed hiss from Athena, who had been curled up on my pillow.  
  
"Sorry, girl," I muttered sleepily, only pausing to close the curtains around my bed before drifting off to sleep.  
  
*******  
  
I was awoke the next morning by a startled cry, followed by a muffled thump as something fell heavily to the dungeon floor.  
  
I grinned and pushed my curtains open to see Draco Malfoy sprawled on the floor, along with most of his bed sheets. "Morning, Draco."  
  
"Be glad I haven't the energy to kill you right now, Zabini," Draco growled, struggling to untangle himself from his sheets. "For now, I'll settle for murdering your cat."  
  
"Why?" I asked, trying to sound appropriately shocked. "She hasn't done anything to you."  
  
Draco picked something off the floor and threw it at me. I caught it as it bounced off my chest and noted it was a slightly bloody, unmistakably dead mouse. "She left /that/ on my pillow."  
  
I quickly turned my laughter into a hacking cough, winning a half-hearted glare from Draco. He didn't seem to have the strength to do anything else at the moment, for which I was immensely thankful.  
  
"What time is it, anyway?" I asked, hoping to distract him from plotting my imminent demise.  
  
Draco glanced at his watch. "Oh, shit!"  
  
"That good, huh?"  
  
"We have fifteen minutes to get to our first class," he said, jumping up and rushing around the room.  
  
I sighed. /God, I hate mornings./  
  
*******  
  
Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, and I sprinted up the last few stairs and burst into the Entrance Hall, nearly colliding with Pansy.  
  
"I was wondering what had happened to you, Draco. We're going to be late for class!"  
  
"Really, Pansy? That /never/ occurred to us," I said sarcastically, hurrying up the stairs beside her. "Thank you /so much/ for that remarkable insight."  
  
"Do you have our schedules, Pansy?" Draco asked, trying to catch his breath. "What class do we have first?"  
  
Pansy sniffed in annoyance, but handed him his schedule. "History of Magic with the Hufflepuffs. Of course, you'd have /known/ that already if you'd come to breakfast. Honestly, and they made /you/ a Prefect--"  
  
"Oh, shut it, Pansy," I snarled. "Now is not the time."  
  
"We ran all the way up here for /History of Magic/?" Draco said with a groan. "We could walk in half-way through class and Binns wouldn't notice."  
  
"You know, I really hate Mondays."  
  
"As do I, my friend. As do I."  
  
*******  
  
A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed! You guys are the greatest. Sorry for the delay. Between my internet sucking (GAAAAH!) and Fanfiction.net not letting me upload stuff (even though it said I DID), this came out several days later than it would have.  
  
Next chapter: *gasp* Could it be? Actual plot progression?! Will Blaise survive History of Magic? Who is the new Defense teacher? Why is Pansy such an ass? And why does Dumbledore always have that damn twinkle in his eye?  
  
Faxton: I'm glad you like it so far. I have to agree with you when you say Blaise is best male, but the only fic I've read where he was somewhat normal had him as a girl. *Grrrr* Hmm... a Blaise/Ginny pairing would be interesting, but I don't know. It depends on whether Blaise will agree to it or not. The strange thing about my stories is that they hardly ever go the way I plan because the characters keep throwing their two cents in.  
  
Porphyrophobic Grape: It IS pretty sad how few fics there are about Blaise, but then most of the ones out there make him into a freak. Just because he's not a major character does not mean they can project their freakish infatuations onto him! He's too cool for that, and I won't stand for it! *steps down off her soapbox* Anyway, I'm glad you like it. Where did you get your name, by the way? It's really cool.  
  
Gkey: I'm glad someone appreciates my sense of humor. Most people just stare at me like I'm crazy. You want me to write more? Darn, I was planning on stopping right here just to bother people, but since you asked...  
  
jules lancaster: Thank you! I love them as well. Well, obviously, since I'm writing one, but... yeah... I'll just shut up now. 


	4. What?

History of Magic was typically underwhelming, the only vaguely interesting part being when Professor Binns floated through the blackboard. After that, the majority of the class promptly fell asleep or zoned out. Time crawled as Binns droned on about the Third Goblin-Dwarf Conflict of 1583. It was physically painful to listen to the ghost, like screws slowly being drilled into my skull. Needless to say, we were more than relieved when class let out.  
  
"You know, I think I actually got stupider during that class," Draco said, rubbing the side of his face where the desk had left a pink mark.  
  
"Is that even possible?" I asked, turning down a narrow stairway.  
  
"I didn't--" He paused, noticing my grin. "Shut up, Zabini. You know better than to mess with my head this early."  
  
"Draco, it's lunch time. I don't think it's early by anyone's standards."  
  
"Give me a break, Blaise. Just because you actually stay awake during History of Magic doesn't give you the right to make fun of the rest of us."  
  
"All right, fine," I said, pushing open a portrait and slipping into the Entrance Hall. "Let's just get to lunch before I die of starvation."  
  
"That's the first intelligent thing you've said today." Draco glanced behind him, making sure Crabbe and Goyle hadn't gotten lost. "Come on, you two. We haven't got all day."  
  
We waited impatiently for Crabbe and Goyle to catch up, then made our way through the mob entering the Great Hall. Thunder rumbled overhead as we took our usual spots, the clouds dark with impending rain.  
  
My gaze wandered from the enchanted ceiling to the High Table, where Professor Sprout was having a rather animated conversation with Madam Hooch. On Hooch's other side was Professor Snape, looking unusually surly, and next to him...  
  
"You have /got/ to be kidding me!"  
  
Several people turned to stare at me, but I ignored them and spun to face Draco. "/Please/ tell me that's not our new professor."  
  
"Actually, it is," Pansy said with a smirk, clearly enjoying seeing me in a panic. "Why? Do you know her?"  
  
I let my head fall against the table. "Oh God, this is cannot be happening to me."  
  
"Obviously, it can," said Draco, sounding mildly concerned for my mental well-being. "So why don't you tell me what you're freaking out about?"  
  
I muttered something unprintable before lifting my head to look Draco in the eye. "That's my aunt."  
  
Draco's eyebrows shot up. "That's her?" he asked, glancing from me to her. "The bipolar one?"  
  
"Well, obviously," I snapped. "I've only got one."  
  
"Relax, Blaise," Draco said patiently. "She just doesn't look very crazy is all."  
  
He did have a point there. Aunt Fae was currently in deep conversation with Professor McGonagall, looking for all the world like a completely normal person (ha!). With her dark hair and Zabini blue eyes, she looked more like a model than anything else. She's the last person you'd expect hunting down dark creatures, but she's actually quite good at it. Well, she hasn't been killed yet, and that says a lot in her line of business.  
  
"Besides," Draco continued, "She can't be that barmy if Dumbledore hired her, can she?"  
  
I laughed humorlessly. "Draco, in the four years we've been here, we've had two Death Eaters, a werewolf, and a brainless git teaching us Defense. Tell me how that's supposed to instill confidence in the headmaster's hiring skills."  
  
"Point taken," Draco said, laughing. "But as long as she's better than Lockhart, I'll be happy."  
  
"My, you've got high standards, haven't you?" I said sarcastically.  
  
"Lighten up, Blaise," he said, biting into an apple. "It won't be that bad."  
  
"Of course not. It'll be worse."  
  
"Blaise..." Draco sighed, apparently deciding not to push the issue. "Come on, we've got Transfiguration next, and I'm not about to be the one that makes us late this time." He stood, then grabbed an apple off the table and tossed it to me. "Here. You can eat this on the way."  
  
"I'm not hungry," I said, getting up as well.  
  
"I don't care. I'm not going to let you pass out during class because you refused to eat lunch."  
  
I glared. "What are you, my mother?"  
  
"Yes. Now hurry up."  
  
Realizing resistance was futile, I did as he asked.  
  
Is it just me, or is the whole world conspiring against me?  
  
*******  
  
"Mister Zabini!"  
  
I jumped and turned to face an irate Professor McGonagall. Desperately trying to remember what I'd done this time, I smiled innocently. "Yes, Professor?"  
  
"Kindly explain why there is a crow on your desk."  
  
I glanced at the bird, which seemed content to scatter my parchment across the floor. "Well, I transfigured it that way, Professor."  
  
"And why was that?" she asked, clearly annoyed. "I believe I specifically instructed you to transfigure your feather into a dove."  
  
Indeed, every other person in the class had white, feathery creature in front of them. However, I noted with satisfaction that very few looked much like doves.  
  
"I must've missed that part." I said calmly. "I'll fix that right now."  
  
I muttered a few words and flicked my wand at the crow. There was a soft popping sound and a dove appeared where the crow had been a moment earlier. Several of my classmates rolled their eyes before turning back to their own birds.  
  
McGonagall looked rather exasperated, but all she said was, "Do try to pay more attention next time, Mister Zabini."  
  
"Of course, Professor," I said in the most respectful tone I could muster. "It won't happen again."  
  
Once McGonagall had left to inspect some unfortunate student's work, a balled up piece of parchment landed on my desk. I glanced around, both to be sure McGonagall hadn't seen and to find who'd thrown it, and caught Pansy's eye.  
  
Oh joy. Just what I need.  
  
I flattened the note on my desk as quietly as I could, trying not to draw any attention, and read:  
  
/Zabini--/  
  
I wonder if she even knows my first name. Heaven knows she's never used it.  
  
/Will you stop being such a damn showoff?/  
  
Miss Parkinson, such language is not befitting of a lady! Oh, that's right. You aren't one.  
  
/For someone who likes a low profile, you sure bring a lot of attention to yourself. Be normal for once and stop trying to make the rest of us look bad!/  
  
She hadn't bothered to sign the note. I briefly considered sending a reply that detailed what an evil bitch she was and how much I'd like to throw her from the top of a tower, but deemed it undignified and immature. Instead, I settled for something simple and to the point.  
  
I flipped the note over and wrote neatly:  
  
/Dearest Pansy--  
  
Kiss my ass.  
  
All my love,  
Blaise/  
  
I crumpled the parchment, checked discreetly for unwanted witnesses, then lobbed the thing back onto Pansy's desk.  
  
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched the girl skim over the note, glare at me, then make an extremely rude gesture with her hand.  
  
I smirked. My people skills never cease to amaze me.  
  
*******  
  
A/N: I don't know if anyone noticed, but the rating went up to PG13. This is simply because Blaise's mouth is a lot dirtier than I originally thought. Also, I wasn't planning on having Blaise's aunt in this story at all; she was just going to be one of those characters that is referred to but never actually seen. Fae, however, had different plans, and had a discussion with me that involved a lot of shouting and a remarkably big knife. Thus, she is now included.  
  
Next Chapter: Family discussions. What is Blaise's aunt doing at Hogwarts (besides teaching, obviously)? Is she really as psycho as he says she is? What sort of food do house elves serve at four-thirty in the morning? Does Arithmancy actually have a point?  
  
Gkey: Believe me, I was just as happy about my updating as you were. I didn't like not being able to upload, not at all! Oh well, now I'm two chapters ahead, so unless there's more technical difficulty, I should have the next ones out on time.  
  
Faxton: I have to agree with you about Blaise being normal, though his extreme attractiveness might be debatable (I don't think Pansy would agree). Your hunch about the Defense teacher is right; there will be a few interesting things about her, but you'll have to wait a bit to find out most of them. She's rather multi-dimentional, if you know what I mean. Thank you again for being such a loyal reviewer! It's nice to know my story's interesting enough to keep coming back to.  
  
JeanB: I'm glad I could give you something a little different to lighten your day. Thanks for the review!  
  
Porphyrophobic Grape: Ha, I'm sure there are a lot of guys that have become porphyrophobic since Tinky-Winky decided to sport the color. You know, /you/ could start that boy-Blaise fansite. I doubt he's got any at all. I could always do it too, I suppose, but then it'd have to wait until my internet gets fixed. According to my provider I should see a "marked improvement" by the end of the week, so I'm guessing I'll be able to stay connected for, say, fifteen minutes at a time. Joy. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Once again, thanks to all who reviewed. It's incredibly cool to know people enjoy reading the story as much as I enjoy writing it. 


	5. Things That Make You Go, Hmmmm

Quick word of advice: Do not speed. Speeding is bad, especially when you get pulled over. Trust me. Even if you get off with a warning, it's one of the most terrifying experiences you could possibly go through. Just say no!  
  
*******  
  
I dreaded going to dinner. With Pansy out for my blood, I doubted I'd survive the experience. So, I did what any sensible Slytherin would do.  
  
I avoided the situation completely.  
  
The library was completely empty as I strolled toward Madam Pince's desk, thinking I might as well get a head start on my homework.  
  
Regardless of what the other students think of her, Madam Pince is one of the few people that I truly like. She may be strict and disturbingly overprotective of her books, but she is incredibly smart and can tell you exactly where to find anything in the library. Also, if you don't annoy her, she can be very personable.  
  
"Back already, Blaise?" the librarian asked, looking up from her paperwork.  
  
I grinned cheekily. "Are you kidding? Rampaging manticores couldn't keep me away."  
  
Madam Pince laughed. "Spare me your flattery, Mister Zabini. What is it you came for? I doubt it was to enjoy the pleasure of my company."  
  
"Actually, I was wondering if you have anything on the Goblin-Dwarf Conflict of 1583."  
  
"Of course," she said, standing and leading me toward the History section. "Which one are you looking for?"  
  
"The third one."  
  
"Ah, yes. A particularly nasty one, that." She ran her fingers across the spines of the books, finally stopping on one and pulling it off the shelf. "Here," she said, handing me the tome, titled A Historian's Reference to Goblin Relations: Volume Twelve. "The information isn't quite as good as some of the other books I have, but at least it's understandable. The rest are in Gaelic."  
  
"Thanks a lot." For once in my life, I meant it. There were rows and rows of books on goblins, and it'd have taken me days to find the right one if I'd tried myself.  
  
"Don't mention it, dear. Just come get me if you need anything else."  
  
"Will do, Madam Pince."  
  
I settled myself at a solitary table at the far end of the library and flipped through the book, occasionally scribbling down a date or significant battle on a piece of parchment. The subject was actually quite interesting, but Binns had a talent for sucking any and all entertainment value out of a topic, no matter how fascinating. I'm sure if he hadn't been dead, he'd have been fired ages ago.  
  
"Blaise?"  
  
I spared the newcomer an annoyed glance before returning to my notes. "What are you doing here, Fae?"  
  
"Well, I came to get a book on resorative draughts, but then I saw you and decided to have a chat," my aunt answered, taking a seat across from me.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Do I need a reason?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You're my nephew," she said. "Isn't that reason enough?"  
  
"No."  
  
She smiled, nonplused. "All right. Have it your way."  
  
She then proceded to stare at me, unblinking, while I did my notes. It was rather disturbing, but I /had/ lived with the woman for two years, after all, so it wasn't anything new.  
  
All was quiet for several minutes, the silence broken only by the scratch of my quill on parchment. Then...  
  
"Will you talk now?"  
  
I gritted my teeth together. "No."  
  
"How 'bout now?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Now?"  
  
"No!" I almost yelled, earning an annoyed look from Madam Pince.  
  
This silenced Fae for approximately three seconds.  
  
"What about now?"  
  
Damn that woman!  
  
"Fine," I snapped, flinging down my quill and finally looking at her straight-on. "What is it you are so desperate to talk about?"  
  
Fae smirked triumphantly. "What are you working on?"  
  
I stared. Of all the things in the world, she wanted to discuss my /schoolwork/? Not trusting myself to say something civil, I simply pushed my book across the table for her to inspect.  
  
"Ah, the Goblin-Dwarf Conflicts," she mused, flipping a couple pages. "Extremely bloody and completely pointless. Then again, what do you expect from goblins, eh?"  
  
"What are you doing here, Fae?"  
  
Fae gave me her patented are-you-really-that-stupid look. "I told you; I wanted to talk to you."  
  
"No, what are you doing at Hogwarts?"  
  
She raised an eyebrow and leaned back on her chair, arms crossed. "Teaching, obviously."  
  
"Fae, you're not cut out to be a teacher," I said. "You hated it when you taught me, and I was your only student. How are you going to manage ten?"  
  
"I'll just have to control my homicidal tendencies," she answered with a shrug. Glancing at her watch, she groaned. "Look, I have to get going or I'll be late for a meeting."  
  
"You seem to be doing that a lot lately," I said lightly. "First the feast, now the meeting; you're really not setting a very good example for the children."  
  
"Hey, the first time wasn't my fault," she said with a smile. "I had to take care of a... infestation near a village in France. Besides," she added, standing. "I shouldn't have to explain myself to you. /I'm/ the adult here and my business is my own. So there."  
  
With that, she stuck out her tongue, turned, and strolled out of the library, leaving me to gape after her.  
  
*******  
  
The next afternoon found me in the Defense classroom with Draco as my only company.  
  
"Tell me again why we came this early?" he grumbled, sitting beside me at a desk.  
  
"Because I'm not in the mood to receive one of Fae's tantrums," I answered, pulling some blank parchment out of my bag. "And she hates when people are late."  
  
"We wouldn't have been late anyway," Draco said, exasperated. "We could've actually had a decent meal. Remember those? Where you /eat/ the food instead of inhaling it?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah. I'm paranoid about these things. So what?"  
  
The rest of the class eventually filtered in, with Crabbe and Goyle bringing up the rear roughly ten seconds before the bell rang.  
  
Fae, as expected, arrived at the exact time the class was to start. She swept into the room, robes billowing out behind her, looking very much the part of a Slayer. She went through roll quickly, then faced the class.  
  
/This should be interesting./  
  
"As I'm sure you already know, I'm your new Defense teacher, Professor Zabini," Fae said sharply, very deep into her Teacher Mode, which I was all too familiar with. "Now, I understand your past teachers have given you a solid background on the more common dark creatures and the Unforgivables." There was a general murmur of agreement from the class. "However, it seems that you haven't been shown how to block even the simplest spells."  
  
"Er, Professor?"  
  
Fae's gaze locked on Pansy, whose hand was raised. "Yes?"  
  
"Our professor from second year showed us to block at a dueling club," Pansy said. "I'm not sure if it was a /real/ block, though."  
  
Fae raised an eyebrow. "You had Professor Lockhart, correct?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
"Ah, that explains it, then. That man couldn't manage a suitable counter- charm if he was dueling against a flobberworm."  
  
Fae spent the rest of the period showing the class the proper wand movements for blocking. It wasn't incredibly complicated, but you had to time each motion precisely.  
  
We had an interesting time of it. Pansy kept getting the order mixed up, Cassandra kept swishing in the wrong direction, and Crabbe almost set his desk on fire. Don't ask me how; he did the same thing in Charms when we were learning /Accio/.  
  
The only people who weren't having that much trouble were Draco, who was a fast learner, and me, who'd already learned it. By the end of the hour, nearly everyone was close to tearing their hair out in frustration.  
  
"I suggest you practice your blocking technique before next week," Fae said, clearly irritated at the class's slow progress. "Anyone without a functioning block by the end of our next class will fail this section."  
  
No one was sorry when the bell finally rung. In fact, some almost sprinted out of the classroom the second the period was over.  
  
"What's her problem?" Draco complained as we strolled down the corridor towards the Ancient Runes classroom. "How are we supposed to learn a counter-charm in a week?"  
  
I shrugged. "I don't know, but you'd better, or she'll skin you alive."  
  
Draco thought for a moment, then turned to me, wide-eyed. "You don't think she'll /test/ us, do you?"  
  
"I'd say it's a definite possibility." Actually, it was almost a certainty, but Draco looked panicked enough as it was. "Relax, Draco. You're already way ahead of the rest of the class."  
  
"Yeah, but that won't matter if I still fail."  
  
"Draco, shut up. You're not going to fail."  
  
Draco snorted. "Really? And what makes you say that?"  
  
"Because I won't let you, for one." Ignoring the somewhat stunned expression on Draco's face, I added, "Besides, you're one of the smartest people in our year. You'd have to /try/ to fail. Now come on, Dulry won't be too pleased if we're late to our first class with him."  
  
*******  
  
A/N: FINALLY done with this chapter! Party over here! Woot! Woot! I rewrote this thing about six times, went to work, came back home and decided it sucked. I'm just glad I wasn't pressed for a deadline or anything. I'm sure I'd have gone crazy trying to fix this thing on time.  
  
Who else is getting OotP tomorrow? I'm freaking out over here because this time tomorrow I'll be reading it! Wow, I'm a loser. Anyway, this story will go on as planned, as it is now officially A/U. If there's a dance or something in OotP, I'll probably incorperate that in somehow, but otherwise this timeline is completely different.  
  
Next Chapter: Late Night chats and Potions class. Find out why insomnia is evil, and why cappuccino should be banned. Why should you never add beetle eyes before moonlilies?  
  
JeanB: Yes, Fae is a little psycho. She's ending up worse than I though she would, but that's her own fault. Of course there will be Gryffindors! Next chapter (I think) we'll see some of them. I agree it'd probably be cooler with Blaise arguing with them cuz Draco is in serious need of new insults.  
  
Porphyrophobic Grape: It's kind of weird that there'd be a bunch of info on a character that's mentioned a total of ONCE in the whole series and isn't even given a gender, but then I suppose people like me /would/ put up stuff like that. As much as I'd like it, I doubt Blaise is in the movies. I mean, how would they know even what to look for? It'd be really cool if he is in there though. As long as he's a guy.  
  
Faxton: Thanks for all the praise. I don't think I've blushed so much since I nearly fell on my butt at work and my brother laughed at me (he's so mean). Oh wait, that was yesterday... Anyway, I'm glad you're so interested in Fae because this whole chapter revolved around her. She's a little psychotic, I know. But there is a method to her madness!  
  
stubbornarse: Ha, I'm lassooing in new people! Now you'll never be able to leave, mwahahahaa! *cackles manically*  
  
Gkey: Quick! Get some super-glue! He's cracking up! *cough* Right. Anyway, thanks for the continued reviews!  
  
Dreams of Magic: Whenever people say it was a nice chapter, I get this weird mental image of someone stroking a book going, "Nice chapter. Gooooood chapter. Who's a nice chapter? You are!" Don't ask why. Please, just don't. Anyway, I'm planning on updating at least once a week, so I'm hoping that's quick enough for everybody.  
  
Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I almost fell off my chair when I got four reviews the first day. *wipes away a tear* I LOVE YOU GUYS! 


	6. A Practical Lesson on Why Seating Charts...

Tuesday dawned dark and dreary, leaving the student body feeling rather lethargic. This was only aided by the first class of the day, Arithmancy.  
  
"Remember," Professor Vector said, "add forty-three to the fourth and seventh terms /before/ reciprocating the second, /then/ divide the first and fourth terms by twelve..."  
  
Out of all the classes offered at Hogwarts, Arithmancy was, without a doubt, the most pointless and uninteresting of them all. It was simply Divination with the illusion of a base in fact. How using numbers to see what a person's birthday said about them would help anyone, I haven't the foggiest.  
  
The only slightly amusing thing about the whole class was how excited Vector got about it. You'd think his Quidditch team had won the World Cup the way he acted. He regularly filled up all four of his blackboards with numbers and equations, all the while lecturing animatedly about the numbers of a person's name can tell what kind of person they are. Unfortunately, his enthusiasm didn't carry over to the class. Most people just talked the whole hour, completely ignoring Vector, while the rest hastily scribbled down notes, looking hopelessly lost.  
  
"...so, using this theorem, if I was born on the second of June at eleven- oh-one exactly under a sickle moon, approximately how long will I live, disregarding outside factors?"  
  
I was nearly smacked in the head by Granger's hand as it flew up into the air.  
  
Much to the chagrin of the class, Vector's passion for numbers was matched by his passion for seating charts. He hadn't hesitated in splitting Draco and me up (though I /can't/ imagine why) and placing me beside Granger, who'd been doggedly pretending I didn't exist for the past ten minutes. Draco, of course, had been put beside Padma Patil, a very pretty Ravenclaw, so he wasn't complaining.  
  
Ignoring my glare, Granger piped, "Forty-three and one-quarter years."  
  
"Excellent, Miss Granger! Let's try another one..."  
  
I leaned towards Granger, loath as I was to be any nearer to her, and hissed, "Will you watch where you're swinging that thing? You're going to take someone's eye out."  
  
Granger glanced at me briefly with raised eyebrows. "Really?" she said coolly. "In your case, I think it'd be an improvement."  
  
"Thanks for the insight, but I'd like to keep my vision, thank you very much."  
  
Granger eyed me in a fashion strongly reminiscent of Pansy. "Then maybe you should shut up and stop distracting me."  
  
"Oh, /please/," I said, rolling my eyes. "As if Vector has anything even remotely interesting to say, anyway."  
  
"/I/ think he's brilliant," Granger said defiantly. "And Arithmancy is a /fascinating/ subject."  
  
I resisted the urge to stare at her in horror. "Yeah, if you're an insufferable know-it-all."  
  
"It's better than being a brainless cretin," Granger snapped. "Now stop bothering me."  
  
"Miss Granger, I'm surprised at you," I said, pretending to be hurt. "Here we are, having a pleasant conversation, and all you do is push me away."  
  
"Did you ever stop to think /why/?" Granger asked through clenched teeth.  
  
I shrugged nonchalantly. "My guess is you're just severely antisocial."  
  
"Or /maybe/ you're an intolerable /jerk/ who should mind his own business," Granger whispered fiercely.  
  
I tsked quietly, unsuccessfully trying to hide my amusement. "You really should control that temper of yours, Granger. Have you considered anger management?"  
  
Granger scowled, but apparently decided that replying wasn't worth the continued annoyance. Indeed, she refused to even look at me for the rest of the period and made a point of waving her hand dangerously close to my head whenever she wanted to answer a question, which was approximately every ten seconds.  
  
Overall, Arithmancy left me in an unusually good mood that day. In fact, my high spirits endured all through the morning and into Double Herbology with Ravenclaw, our last class of the day, where we discovered that Professor Sprout had apparently taken a page from Hagrid's book and was trying to maim or kill off as many pupils as possible by the end of term.  
  
"Really, now," Draco said after nearly having his hand bit off for the third time by a Giant Snapping Venusia. "Why would anyone /want/ one of these monsters, aside from a death-wish?"  
  
"They're not /that/ bad," Ryan Schultz, a Ravenclaw who was quite friendly with us and was working on the same plant, said as he casually tossed another dead rat into the Venusia's fanged jaws. "And they're dead useful in potions if you can get some."  
  
"You're just saying that because they haven't ripped off bits of you yet," I said lightly, dangling a rodent by the tail just beyond the homicidal plant's reach. "Besides, it'd be kind of hard to use them in a potion if you haven't got any hands left to make it with."  
  
"Well, if you go taunting it like that, I won't be surprised if it bites you," Ryan scolded, the effect ruined by the smile tugging at his lips. "Venusias are supposed to be quite passive, usually, but--Honestly, Draco! /Toss/ the rat, don't /throw/ it!--but when provoked, they can be a bit... violent."  
  
"Oh, silly me!," Draco said mockingly, "tossing" a rat with a bit more force than necessary at the Venusia. "I forgot how creatures get provoked when you try to keep them alive!"  
  
"Draco--"  
  
"Ryan, if you start with that 'they're just misunderstood' speech, I'm going to hex you," I said before the Ravenclaw could reply. "It's bad enough with Hagrid spouting that nonsense all the time without you joining in."  
  
Ryan looked from me, who had drawn my wand to carry out my threat, to Draco, who was nursing some newly acquired scrapes on the back of his hand and glaring at the offending plant with a slightly homicidal gleam in his eye. Deciding it better to just change the subject, Ryan cleared his throat and said, "So, have you had Defense yet? I hear the new teacher is a real nutter..."  
  
Draco and I found ourselves recounting our entire first class in detail. Ryan wasn't surprised in the least when I told him of my relation to Fae ("Well, it's pretty obvious. Zabini isn't a very common name, after all."), but was very interested when I told him she was a Slayer.  
  
"Sounds a bit like Moody, doesn't she?" Ryan said thoughtfully. "They both work against dark creatures--well, dark wizards, in Moody's case--they're both strict and, from what you said, slightly off in the head."  
  
"At least she doesn't try to catch us off guard all the time," Draco said. "'CONSTANT VIGILANCE!'" Several people jumped as he yelled this, glancing about as though they expected Professor Moody himself to jump out at them. "Honestly, it was enough to make anyone paranoid..."  
  
The class was relieved when the bell finally rang, signaling the end of the day's classes. Despite Professor Sprout's assurances that Giant Snapping Venusias were harmless if you treated them right, several students sported cuts and scrapes of varying severity that itched and swelled as time went on. Apparently, the Venusias had a weak venom that, while nowhere near lethal, would make the site of injury extremely uncomfortable for a few days.  
  
"If my hand is better by our next lesson, I'm going to strangle Sprout," Draco grumbled as we took our places at dinner. "How am I supposed to work like this?!" He held up his right hand, which had swelled at an alarming rate and was now looking a unsettling shade of purple.  
  
I winced sympathetically, but teased, "That's what happens when you /throw/ instead of /toss/, Draco."  
  
"Shut up, Zabini, or I'll toss you off the top of the Astronomy Tower," Draco growled, trying and failing to hold his fork in his injured hand. After the fourth time utensil slipped from his grasp and clattered loudly on his plate, Pansy said exasperatedly, "Why don't you just go to the Hospital Wing if it's that bad?"  
  
Draco spared her an irritated glance, but had to admit she had a point and resignedly marched out of the Hall, ignoring the curious gazes that followed him.  
  
"This is all your fault, Zabini," Pansy complained once Draco was out of earshot.  
  
I blinked in surprise. "Me? How is this my fault?"  
  
"You were his partner!" she said, looking at me like I was the vilest creature she'd ever had the misfortune of seeing. "You should've kept that-- that /thing/ from biting him!"  
  
"What did you expect me to do, slap his hand out of the way and get bit myself?" I asked incredulously, but she glared at me in a way that said, yes, she did expect me to do that, and give up my left kidney while I was at it. "You're out of your mind, Parkinson."  
  
"Mad, am I?" Pansy growled. "I think you'd be used to nutters by now, considering your family."  
  
My eyes narrowed dangerously. "What are you insinuating, Parkinson?"  
  
Pansy grinned maliciously. "Nothing, Zabini, nothing at all," she purred, casting the merest of glances to the staff table, where Fae was talking quietly with Professor Snape. "I was just referring to your family's--er-- /eccentric/ history."  
  
I became aware that my jaw was clenched painfully and I had half-drawn my wand before I could stop myself. "I suggest you don't embellish on that thought, Parkinson, if you value your appearance even in the slightest."  
  
Pansy smirked, but wisely chose not to reply. Instead, she turned to engage Cassandra Cretian in conversation as if she hadn't spoken to me at all.  
  
I stabbed my potatoes viciously, imagining they were Pansy's face. What the hell had I done to deserve that girl?  
  
*******  
  
It was well past midnight, but I was, despite my efforts, still very much awake. Pansy's scathing words were still spinning around in my head, slowly working me into an incredibly foul mood. Of all the things she could say, talking about my family like we're just a madhouse. /Ridiculous/...  
  
Of course, those comments about my family wouldn't have had the nearly the same effect on me if they weren't at least partially true. My family was undeniably bizarre by anyone's standards, but they weren't /nutters/. So what if I'd spent much of my childhood being shuffled between relations and friends of relations because no one knew quite what to do with me? That didn't make them /crazy/.  
  
Sure, Fae was a little... off-balance at times, but she really was quite brilliant. She knew a dozen ways to kill a man without using a weapon, which may qualify as a bit strange, but it was bloody useful... Mother had been prone to breakdowns at the most inopportune times, but that wasn't really her fault. /That/ blame rested, in my eyes, squarely on my father's shoulders. Of course, Fae always tried to convince me otherwise--that was her duty, being his sister and all--but I couldn't stand to listen to her turn him into this great person when I /knew/ he was the biggest idiot ever to grace the planet. In fact, I liked to pretend my father was dead instead of just in prison; it made it so much easier to think about him in the past tense.  
  
Oddly enough, it was my grandfather, the Muggle, that was probably the most normal member of my family, and the closest thing to an actual father I'd ever known. Gran came in a close second on the normalcy list, but her strange obsession with doilies and opera put Gramp on top. So my family wasn't /completely/ crazy.  
  
With that resolved, I thought my mind would be put more at ease, but it actually did very little, if anything. In fact, I ran the same monologue over in my head a half dozen times before I decided I had better things to do with my time than argue with myself and crawled out of bed, careful not to disturb Athena. Digging out a few of my textbooks, I crept out of the pitch dark dorm and up the uneven stairs to the Common Room. The fire had died long before my arrival, leaving a damp chill that seeped into my bones and made me wish, quite suddenly, that I was back in my warm bed.  
  
I wasn't a wizard for nothing, though, so I flicked my wand at the empty grate, curled up on the chair nearest to the dancing flames, and allowed myself to become lost in my Transfiguration book. I was so engrossed in it, it took me a few moments to notice the footsteps echoing up the stairs from the dorms an hour later. I glanced up to see Draco emerge through the arch at the peak of the stairway, yawning. He didn't seem at all surprised to see me; he simply threw himself into the chair next to mine and muttered, "Morning, Blaise."  
  
"Good morning to you too, Draco," I said cheerfully, scribbling a bit on a piece of parchment.  
  
Draco made a valiant attempt to pry his eyes open enough to look at me incredulously, but was unsuccessful. "What are you so happy about, Blaise?"  
  
"I just realized why Conjuring things is so much harder than Vanishing them," I said, brandishing the parchment in front of Draco's face.  
  
Draco took hold of the parchment and squinted at it. "Blaise, I must be going crazy because this looks suspiciously like an Arithmancy problem written here."  
  
"Actually, it's algebra, but they're closely related so it doesn't really matter," I said, smiling indulgently. "Anyway, it all has to do with how much has been Vanished beforehand and whether there's enough of that to make whatever you're Conjuring. You can't make something out of nothing, after all, that's why you can only Conjure smaller things, usually. Then there are proximity issues, I haven't quite worked that part out yet..."  
  
Draco yawned widely. "Blaise, we don't learn about Conjuring until next term. What's the point of working on it now?"  
  
"Well, there's no harm in being prepared, is there?"  
  
"There is when it's at four in the morning," Draco said, stifling another yawn.  
  
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "If you're that tired you should go back to bed before you pass out."  
  
"I can't," he replied, sounding very sorry about it indeed. "This stupid thing..." he held up his now heavily bandaged hand, which was slowly returning to its natural color, "it has these weird shots of pain, usually right before I get to sleep, too." He sighed despairingly. "It's /hopeless/."  
  
I frowned slightly. "Will your hand be useable tomorrow?"  
  
"I think so," Draco said, shrugging. "Madam Pomfrey wants to check up on it tomorrow morning, though. This morning. Whatever."  
  
"As long as it's functioning for Potions. I don't think we can rely on Goyle to put a decent potion together on his own."  
  
Draco scowled. Ever since first year, we had been strictly forbidden by Snape to let Crabbe and Goyle work together because, quite frankly, they were too stupid to not blow up half the Potions class, so Draco and I usually ended up as their baby-sitters. "Maybe I should just pretend it still isn't well, then maybe I can work with you and dump Goyle on Millicent."  
  
"That's not a half-bad idea," I mused. "It'd be nice to work with someone who actually knows what's going on."  
  
"Hear, hear," Draco said, raising an imaginary glass in a toast.  
  
"... but still, you'd be /lying/, Draco," I said with mock concern. "I don't know if I could stand that on my conscience..."  
  
"Blaise, I'm serious. Shut. Up."  
  
*******  
  
A/N: First off, I'd just like to say that J.K. Rowling is absolutely the most brilliant writer I've ever had the pleasure of reading. Is it just me, or was OotP fabulous? I want to strangle Bellatrix, though... grrrrr... Second, I'd like to apologize for saying things would be in this chapter that weren't. See, I'd already written this when I updated last, but then I was bullied into changing it by my plot bunny.  
  
Next chapter: Almost everything I originally said was in this chapter.  
  
Faxton: I'm glad I'm not the only one completely psyched about HP5 finally coming out. Course, my best friend and I spent quite a bit of time gushing about it and we hadn't even read it yet. Anyway, I'm glad you like Fae, though that might not last long. She's... well, you'll see, I suppose. *reads a bit further and gasps* You're putting me on your favorites list?! Omigosh, I feel so loved... Of course I'll take time to update! Actually, the past three days have been split between reading HP and writing this, so I haven't forgotten you. Fear not, loyal reviewer, for I shall not abandon you! *cough* Yeah, anyway...  
  
stubbornarse: Well, lasooing may be the wrong word. Hog-tying is more what I'm going for. I'd like to update twice a week, believe me, I would. But some chapters refuse to go the way I want, so I rewrite them half a dozen times before my characters stop screaming at me ("What the /hell/ is this? You don't really expect me to /do/ that, do you?"). So I apologize if once a week isn't fast enough, but it's either that or I may be slaughtered by my own brain-children.  
  
JeanB: Hope I didn't update too fast for you ;). I just finished OotP last night and I almost cried... Poor Harry... But anyway, I know I promised a few Gryffindors this chapter and I didn't really do it (except Hermione, but I don't know if that counts). I'm sorry, really, I am. My plot bunny insisted on putting this stuff first.  
  
Gkey: I'm sorry for calling you a 'he', but I guessed. I'm just a really, really bad guesser, you see. But I do have a Ravenclaw nerd just for you. *beams* I hope you like him.  
  
Porphyrophobic Grape: I know what you mean. I stayed up till three in the morning, slept for five hours, then went right back to reading (I love having days off, it's grand). I felt so bad for Harry, especially during that thing with the mirror and Nick... it was just so /sad/! I'm glad you still want to read this, though, even if you have the goodness of J.K. Rowling.  
  
Thanks for reviewing, everyone! You're so awesome, you can't even imagine. 


	7. I Knew I Should Have Read the Directions

The school awoke the next morning to find the grounds a great bit wetter, as the sky had finally decided to unleash its massive supply of rain. Great droplets of moisture fell from the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, only to disappear a few feet above the heads of the students who had congregated there for breakfast.  
  
"You know, it ought to be a crime to be so damn cheerful this early in the morning," Draco grumbled, watching a group of Hufflepuff girls walk by giggling.  
  
"Maybe we should write the Minister, have him make it a law," I said boredly, watching as Draco repeatedly opened and closed his right hand, as if testing it. "How's your hand?"  
  
"Not perfect, but it'll do," he said. "I reckon I can still get Snape to think I'm disabled enough to warrant a partner-switch, though."  
  
I laughed. "Draco, even if he doesn't believe you, he'll still let you switch. You're his favorite, remember?"  
  
"Am not," Draco said indignantly. "If I was he wouldn't keep sticking me with Goyle." The boy in question looked up from his eggs, but quickly returned to them when it became evident he wasn't about to receive an order.  
  
"Honestly, Draco," I said, shaking my head, "You really are thick sometimes."  
  
Draco was about to argue when the post arrived. There were a few moments of organized chaos as hundreds of owls dropped packages and letters to their rightful owners, then left as quickly and silently as they'd arrived.  
  
I was pleasantly surprised when a long envelope fell onto my sausage, addressed to me in my grandmother's elegant script. I skimmed over the letter, which contained the customary warnings to stay out of trouble (even though it's entirely not my fault that I'm one of Trouble's favorite people and he seems to have taken up permanent residence in my dorm) and queries as to how I was getting on. Gran also advised me not to bother Fae (as if I needed her to tell me that). I smiled slightly, refolding the letter and slipping it into my pocket. Really, that woman worried too much.  
  
For lack of anything else to do, I turned to Draco, who had just unfurled a copy of the /Daily Prophet/. "Anything interesting?"  
  
Draco shook his head. "Just the usual rubbish. Vigilantes and coups to overthrow the government. I don't think even Rita Skeeter wrote anything /that/ far off." Noticing my doubtful look, he amended, "Well, maybe she did, but then it wasn't the whole bloody paper."  
  
"Too true," I said, taking a sip of my pumpkin juice. "And people are so dependent on the press, they'll believe anything the papers feed them."  
  
"Well, they haven't got much of a choice, do they?" said Draco blandly, turning the page. "Where else are they supposed to find news?"  
  
I sighed and rubbed my forehead. "That's the problem with having just one news outlet to cover an entire country. You don't know what's real and what's not because you haven't got a separate view of things."  
  
"Blaise, I think you need to stop reading so many books on politics," Draco said bluntly. "They're addling your mind."  
  
"For the sake of our friendship, I'll pretend you didn't say that."  
  
Draco grinned, but chose not to comment. He continued to scan the paper in front of him, then frowned. "Huh. That's weird..."  
  
"What's weird?" Draco passed the paper to me, indicating a short article between an interview with a man allegedly attacked by a lethifold and an ad for Flourish and Blotts.  
  
/MINISTRY WORKER FOUND DEAD IN LONDON HOME/  
  
I looked up sharply at Draco, who beckoned me to continue.  
  
/Zachary Warren, an Unspeakable for the Ministry of Magic, was found dead  
in his London flat yesterday afternoon. Colleagues had gone there to check up  
on Warren after he'd missed work that day. They found the home in shambles  
and Warren dead.  
  
/"It wasn't pretty," one said. "Looked like he'd let a dragon loose in there. He  
wasn't in much better shape, mind, and it's not a sight I'll soon forget."  
  
/Many speculate Warren's death was the work of vigilantes who Warren may  
have been trackingdown. When asked if this was plausible, Michael Franks,  
Head of the Department of Mysteries, angrily replied, "I can't say either way  
if he was working on that or not, nor can I comment on who may have been  
behind this. This is the Department of Mysteries, after all, and we can't go  
spouting our projects to every nosy reporter who comes along."  
  
/If it is found that vigilantes are indeed at fault, this will be the third attack in six  
weeks. This reporter sincerely hopes that those responsible will be found before  
any more tragic deaths occur./  
  
"I take it this wasn't Death Eaters," I said, letting the paper fall to the table.  
  
Draco shook his head, looking troubled. "Father would have told me if something like this was happening. Besides, it sounds a bit messy to be them, don't you think?"  
  
"Yeah, it does," I said distractedly, skimming over the article again. Zack Warren... where had I heard that name before?  
  
*******  
  
"Why do they insist on putting us with the Gryffindors all the time?" Draco complained as we joined the other Slytherins outside the Potions classroom. "They do know it's a disaster waiting to happen, right?"  
  
"I suppose they're trying to improve Gryffindor-Slytherin relations," I mused. "Besides, if it weren't for people like you, the situation wouldn't be nearly as volatile."  
  
"If they weren't all arrogant gits, I wouldn't be /forced/ to bother them," Draco said, playing the part of the unaccredited martyr. "Imagine how big their heads would get if I wasn't here. It's my /duty/ to keep their egos in check."  
  
The other Slytherins, who had been listening in on the conversation, burst out laughing. It was at this point that the Gryffindors arrived, with Potter and his sidekicks bringing up the rear. Never one to miss the opportunity to harass the Boy-Who-Refused-to-Die, Draco called out, "Back again, Potter? Here I thought you'd be too /traumatized/ from last year to return."  
  
The response was instantaneous. Weasley immediately seemed to develop a bad sunburn over the course of three-point-four seconds, Granger directed her most deadly glare at Draco (which, I might add, wasn't nearly as potent as Pansy's), and Potter assumed a very unflattering scowl.  
  
"I'm surprised /you're/ here, Malfoy," Potter spat. "I thought you'd be off torturing Muggles with your father."  
  
Draco's eyes narrowed, but then he smiled coolly. "Why would I do that when it's /so/ much more fun torturing /you/?" The Slytherins sniggered behind him.  
  
"Sod off, Malfoy," Weasley growled.  
  
"Language, Weasley," Draco chided, smirking. "/Entirely/ inappropriate. I should take points for that, you know."  
  
"And /I/ should take points from you for being an obnoxious prat," Granger said angrily.  
  
"Still can't control that temper, I see," I said lightly, unable to resist. "I don't see /how/ you ever got to be a prefect when you snap at people for no reason."  
  
"And /you/," Granger snapped, rounding on me and earning surprised stares from Potter and Weasley. "You're just as bad as he is!"  
  
"Why Granger, I'm flattered."  
  
If looks could kill, I'd be dead a hundred times over. "I ought to--"  
  
"Yes, you ought to," I said silkily. "But you're not going to, are you, Granger?"  
  
For a moment I thought she might slap me--the incident with Draco in third year was legendary--but she simply growled, "Don't /presume/--"  
  
"Is there a problem here?" I turned to Snape, who was watching the exchange with a curious expression.  
  
"Of course not, Professor," Draco said in a not-very-innocent tone. "We were just welcoming back our classmates."  
  
"Indeed," Snape said, raising an eyebrow. "Well, please refrain from blocking my doorway as you do so. The bell is about to ring and I do not believe you want to be late for my class."  
  
Potter and his friends were limited to trying to kill us with death glares as the students filed into the classroom and rushed to their seats to avoid incurring Snape's wrath.  
  
"You know," I said quietly as Draco and I claimed a desk near the front, "I think I understand why you like taunting them so much, now. It's just so /easy/."  
  
Draco clapped a hand to my shoulder and grinned. "I'm glad you've finally seen the light, my friend."  
  
We turned our attention to the front of the room, where Snape was explaining Engorgement Draughts and what they're good for.  
  
Professor Snape is one of those teachers that has very few fans, if any. Strict, irritable, and biased to a fault, he's earned the hatred and malice of almost the entire student body. Even the Slytherins know not to screw around with him, as he is a force to be reckoned with.  
  
Once Snape had detailed how he would personally see to the expulsion of anyone who blew up his classroom, we undertook the task of brewing our own Engorgement Draughts. This was unusually easy, but since my regular partner was only slightly more intelligent than a dust bunny, it wasn't that surprising. I must say, it was a bit distracting to have half a dozen people shooting glares at Draco and me (curiously, many of the Gryffs didn't seem to care that we had insulted their poster boy), but it wasn't unmanageable. You have to get used to these things when you're a Slytherin.  
  
Class was disrupted half-way through by an ominous hissing from Longbottom's cauldron, from which green smoke was billowing and rapidly spreading across the ceiling. Nearby students rushed to get out of range in case it exploded, or perhaps it was because Snape was approaching, looking rather unstable.  
  
"Did you lose what little brains you possessed over the summer, Longbottom?!" Snape said acidly. "Did I or did I not tell you to stir in the moonlilies /before/ adding the beetle eyes?"  
  
Ignoring a cringing Longbottom and several students choking on the smoke, Snape reached into his pocket, pulled out a small spongy-looking item, and tossed it into the offending cauldron. There was a loud crack and a puff of smoke, then the air cleared to reveal a watery, acid-orange liquid that was fizzing slightly.  
  
"That can't be good for Longbottom's grade," I muttered, watching as Snape turned to the Gryffindor, who looked as though he was about to be torn to pieces by a pack of rabid wolves.  
  
Draco snickered.  
  
*******  
  
Longbottom got off easy, considering that Snape seemed intent on making him (and the rest of the Gryffindors, for that matter) fail miserably. He only lost twenty points, bringing the grand total for the period to fifty. We Slytherins, of course, gained a few, even though most of us hardly did a thing. That's the great thing about being in Snape's House; you're pretty much guaranteed to pass his class, even when you're abysmal at it, and you'll probably even gain some points.  
  
The day progressed rather dully after that, the only high point being in Charms, when the raven Goyle was supposed to make sing suddenly and inexplicably began to swell. It had grown to the size of a retriever by the time Flitwick finally noticed and put it right.  
  
I was more than happy when the last bell rang, signaling the end of classes. Only one day to go 'til the weekend. Unfortunately, the teachers also seemed to be thinking along those lines, except while students see weekends as time off, teachers see them as an opportunity to pile as much homework as humanly possible onto their classes.  
  
Thus, even though it was Thursday evening, which is so close to the weekend you can almost taste it, I was back in the library with a grumbling Draco.  
  
"Is there a point to giving us so much homework?" Draco asked peevishly as he attempted to do his Arithmancy. "I mean, we'd learn just as much with half the amount they give us."  
  
"I suspect they're trying to turn our brains to useless mush," I said, tapping the end of my quill to my forehead as I tried to think of how to start my essay for McGonagall ("Explain, with examples, how partial to complete transfigurations are useful in everyday life."). "They're succeeding quite nicely in my case. I'm drawing a complete blank here."  
  
"That's because you're trying too hard," Draco said matter-of-factly, reaching over and swiping my quill. He grabbed my parchment as well and scribbled a bit on it, then pushed the lot back to me.  
  
"'Partial to complete transfigurations are useful because'..." I read, then gave Draco a scathing glare. "What the hell is this?"  
  
Draco grinned. "It's the beginning for your essay. Now you can stop wracking your brains and actually get something done."  
  
"You've got to be kidding me," I said indignantly. "You just switched the assignment into the topic sentence!"  
  
"So?"  
  
"It's the most boring and unimaginative thing you could possibly do!"  
  
"I repeat, 'so?'"  
  
I stared at him for a moment, at a complete loss. "Honestly, I thought Slytherins were supposed to be ambitious. How did you ever get in?"  
  
"Hey, I'm ambitious," Draco said, not offended in the least. "I intend to be the world's best professional slacker."  
  
I raised an eyebrow. "How is that even remotely ambitious?"  
  
Draco gave me a pitying look. "You can't possibly understand how hard it is to slack off, Blaise," he explained, as if speaking to a small child. "You have to make people think you're busy, when in reality you're not accomplishing anything at all."  
  
"Oh, you mean what you do every day in class."  
  
My friend nodded. "Yes, but on a much larger scale. I have to perfect my art before we graduate so I can continue once we have actual jobs."  
  
"Right," I said, scratching out the opening to my essay and replacing it with something more original. "Good luck on that. I, however, will be making an actual effort on my homework so I can get something resembling an interesting job."  
  
Draco rolled his eyes. "You're hopeless."  
  
*******  
  
A/N: Wow, that was kind of a weird chapter, huh? Hopefully all of you begging for Slytherin-Gryffindor action will be happy with this, though there should be more in the next chapter (unless I get really, really long- winded).  
  
Next chapter: Magical creatures. *gasp* More Gryffindors? Possible discussions on family relations.  
  
Gkey: I agree that Pansy is very hateable. If I had my way, she'd be packed in a crate bound for the North Pole. Anyway, I'm glad you liked the chapter and Ryan. The main reason Draco even speaks to him is because Blaise thinks he's funny. Draco may be Slytherin to the extreme, but he will make reasonable concessions for his friends.  
  
JeanB: I agree, the book was pretty dark, but it made me love it more. :-D I hope we won't have to wait so long for HP6, but I won't mind if it's as good as this one. I'm glad you liked Hermione in here, and the Herbology class. I wasn't sure how that would come off, but it just seemed /wrong/ if I took those scenes out. Have no fear, my plot bunnies are running rampant with ideas for things to happen later, though I really don't know how many I'll actually use.  
  
stubbornarse: Thanks for putting me on your favorites. It does an author good to know people like their story that much. Thanks again for reviewing!  
  
Porphyrophobic Grape: Yeah, I thought Harry was kind of mood-swingy too, but I suppose if I was stuck with people I hated for 3 months with no information about a risen dark lord, it would get to me too. But hey, it's funny when he yells at people. Anywhoo, I'm glad you like how this is going (though WHERE it's going is a mystery... dun duh DUNN!) and thanks for reviewing.  
  
Faxton: The need to get back to HP5 is perfectly understandable, especially considering that I'm nowhere near as good an author as J.K. Rowling. I'm just glad you took time to check if I'd updated or not. I don't think I'd have been able to pry myself away for very long if it was me.  
  
meishame: Wow, that was a long review. Lessee, five words maybe? ;-) Still, thanks for reviewing. It means a lot to me.  
  
Again, I can't thank you enough for reviewing. You are the reason I stay up 'til four in the morning writing this thing, and you keep my plot bunnies alive and well. Thank you! 


	8. In Which Blaise Gets Angry and Draco Coo...

Just a quick note: Happy 4th of July to everyone, and happy belated-Canada Day to my relatives up north. *waves* Fireworks RULE! Anyway, I really wanted to get this out before the weekend because I'll be gone the whole time and won't be able to write much. *pouts* Man, holidays suck major...  
  
Anywhoo, on with the story!  
  
*******  
  
After four long, grueling days of classes and homework and annoying classmates, Friday had finally arrived. The earth itself seemed to be celebrating. Not only did it stop raining, but the sun rose in all its glory in a clear and cloudless sky. A person couldn't ask for better weather that afternoon as we strolled across the grounds to Hagrid's hut, where Care of Magical Creatures class was held.  
  
"So," Pansy said, shielding her eyes from the blinding sunlight. "What new horror do you think awaits us this time?"  
  
Cassandra snapped her gum loudly. "Something large, fanged, and poisonous, no doubt."  
  
"Knowing Hagrid, it'll probably be illegal, to boot."  
  
"Personally, I think he just likes torturing us," Draco said lazily, skirting around the edge of the lake.  
  
"I second that thought," I said. "I believe Dumbledore may be in on it as well, otherwise we wouldn't have every bloody class with the Gryffindors."  
  
"Too true," said Pansy. "Father always said the old coot was senile, and his letting Hagrid teach only proves it."  
  
"Well, you have to admit that his class is never dull," I mused.  
  
"Only because we spend most of our time fighting for our lives," Cassandra grumbled as we arrived at the shack, making sure to keep a safe distance from the Gryffindors. We may be evil, but we're not suicidal, and judging by the glares we were receiving from Potter's gang, they wouldn't hesitate to hex us senseless if provoked. Draco smirked, finding the situation quite amusing. I caught Granger's eye, grinned, and winked, very much enjoying the way her scowl intensified by several degrees.  
  
All good things must come to an end, however. We had only been there for a few moments before Hagrid appeared from behind his hut, his moleskin coat looking even grungier and shabbier than normal, if that was possible. The giant man rubbed his hands together in anticipation and obvious excitement, a sure sign that someone was bound to get mutilated by the end of class.  
  
"I gotta treat fer yeh out back, only jus' got 'em," Hagrid said eagerly, not noticing the nervous expressions on the students' faces as he led us behind the shack. Much to our surprise, the creatures tethered to the garden fence seemed to be relatively normal. Pulling against their ropes were twenty pitch-black wolves, none of which looked very happy to be tied up.  
  
"Er... Hagrid?" asked Potter, eyeing the creatures apprehensively. "What are those things?"  
  
"They're called Bane Wolves," Hagrid said, as though that explained everything. "Now, who knows what Bane Wolves are known fer?"  
  
To the complete and utter shock of everyone present, Granger's hand shot up instantly. "Bane Wolves, also known as Hellhounds, are often found where large battles are fought," she said. "It was long believed that they fed off the souls of the dead or carried the souls into the after-life. Even though this theory was disproved over a century ago, they are still considered to be atrociously bad luck."  
  
Hagrid beamed at Granger as the rest of the class exchanged horrified glances. "Good, ten points teh Gryffindor." To the dismay of the class, he untied one of the leashes from the fence and dragged the attached wolf uncomfortably close, causing several to back away from its snapping jaws. "All right, bein' as it's yer firs' day an' all, yeh won' be able to 'andle 'em just yet," Hagrid said, sounding disappointed, even though many students were sighing in relief. "So today I'll jus' show yeh what makes a Bane Wolf differ'nt than a normal one. Yeh see 'is eyes?"  
  
We obligingly examined the struggling wolf more closely. Some gasped as they realized the creature had pure white eyes. No iris, no pupil, just white. Far more unsettling than its appearance was the sense that it could see something we couldn't. I shuddered slightly as the wolf's opaque eyes rested on me for a moment, leaving the distinct impression that it was looking /through/ me instead of at me.  
  
"People say they kin see auras. Tha's why their eyes're that way," Hagrid explained. "But if yeh get 'em real angry, their eyes'll turn red. Once that happens, yeh probably won' be livin' much longer." Several students gulped nervously.  
  
The rest of the period was spent learning minor differences that made a Bane Wolf recognizable from a normal one, most of which you'd need to have the wolves standing side-by-side to notice. You can imagine how useful that knowledge would be.  
  
"I don't get it, though," Draco said as we made our way back up to the castle. "If people thought those things brought their souls to the after- life, why were they afraid of them? I'd be a lot more worried if they /didn't/ show up."  
  
I smiled. "Legend has it that sometimes Bane Wolves would attack soldiers during battle. The whole pack would go after one person and tear them to shreds, effectively eating him alive, their eyes glowing red."  
  
Draco frowned. "What does that have to do with the after-life?"  
  
"Oh /honestly/, Draco. Do try to use your brain once and a while," I said, shaking my head. "People thought they were minions of the devil, there to drag the man to his eternal damnation."  
  
"Ohhhh, I get it," Draco said with sudden comprehension. "That's why they're called Hellhounds."  
  
"Exactly," I said as we climbed the stairs into the Entrance Hall. "I can't imagine why Dumbledore would let Hagrid have those things around students, though. You'd think it'd be awfully dangerous."  
  
"Yeah, well, you'd think it'd be dangerous having a half-giant for a teacher, but that doesn't stop Dumbledore," Draco said wryly.  
  
"Well, /I/ think it's a crime that oaf is allowed around people at all, much less teaching," said Pansy in her most haughty voice. I'd forgotten she was even there. "He's a danger to us all with those monsters he has us learning about."  
  
"I don't remember you being in this conversation, Pansy," I said irritably.  
  
Pansy glared. "I don't remember caring. Oh wait, that's right; I don't!"  
  
"Well, good for you, but that doesn't change the fact that you should shut up," I snapped.  
  
"Both of you shut up," said Draco, clearly annoyed. "You're giving me a headache."  
  
Pansy huffed, but said nothing as we approached the doors to the Great Hall. Leaning against the wall beside the entrance was Fae, looking unusually tense as she scanned the mass of students heading for dinner. Upon spotting me, she beckoned me over. Damn her..  
  
I split off from the group ("Might as well see what the old bat wants.") and waded through the sea of bodies to stand beside Fae, not bothering to hide my aggravation. "What?"  
  
Instead of answering, Fae leaned uncomfortably close to me. "Come to my office after dinner." She said this so quietly, I almost didn't catch it over the clamor of hundreds of talkative students. "I need to talk to you."  
  
Before I could ask her what was going on, she'd disappeared down some obscure passageway. I stared after her for a moment, thoroughly confused and a little nervous. What was that all about?  
  
*******  
  
An hour later, I was standing anxiously outside Fae's office, seriously considering throwing myself down a flight of stairs so I could avoid this meeting. Whatever Fae wanted to talk to me about, I was quite sure it wasn't pleasant.  
  
I was still there a few moments later when the door suddenly opened, revealing a surprised and slightly amused Fae. "It's a lot easier to be let in if you knock, you know," she said, stepping aside so I could enter.  
  
"Er... right. I'll remember that next time," I said as Fae closed the door behind me. I took a seat in front of her desk, noting that this office was almost identical to the one at her manor. There was the same collection of blades arranged on the wall, each overlaid with silver for maximum effect. Against another wall was a bookcase stuffed with dozens and dozens of tomes on the Dark Arts and dark creatures, some falling apart with age and use. On still more shelves, there were odds and ends: a few photographs, a jar half-full of fangs, the jawbone of a werewolf she'd had a particularly hard time killing. I suppose it was kind of creepy, but she has entire wings of her manor that are devoted to various weapons and creatures, so this was nothing.  
  
Fae settled herself into the wooden chair across from me, her sapphire eyes studying me. I fought the urge to fidget, but it was a rather pointless effort. Something in Fae's gaze unnerved me to no end. "So," I said. "What did you want to talk to me about?"  
  
My feeling of dread increased as Fae leaned forward, regarding me seriously. "I'm going to have to ask you to not go to Hogsmeade this year."  
  
This wasn't exactly what I'd been expecting. "What?! Why?"  
  
"It's too risky," she said. "With Voldemort back, I'm not taking any chances."  
  
"Why? It wasn't too risky when Sirius Black broke into the castle in third year, why should it be now?" I asked, trying to keep my voice even while my mind screamed 'What the hell is going on here?!' "Besides, I'm a Slytherin. Why should he attack me, of all people?"  
  
Fae rubbed her eyes tiredly. "Blaise, you have to realize that, outside of Hogwarts, which House you're in doesn't really matter."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I know," I said impatiently. "But the fact still remains that most of You-Know-Who's supporters are Slytherins, so naturally he's not as likely to go after them."  
  
"Yes, but there are other reasons... other dangers that I'm not willing to put you in," she answered with an oddly distant expression.  
  
"Like?"  
  
Fae sighed. "I'm not entitled to share that information with you at this time."  
  
"Oh, what the /hell/?" I cried, not caring I was being undignified. "You're not /entitled/? What, do you work for bloody MI-6 now?"  
  
"If I was, would I tell you?"  
  
I vaguely noticed my nails were digging into the armrest of the chair. "Damn it all..." I muttered, then attempted to regain my composure. "Is there anything else you're entitled to tell me, or can I leave?"  
  
Fae watched me critically for a moment, then said, "You can go."  
  
I stood and stalked out of the room, some part in the back of my mind noting that Fae looked more tired than I'd ever seen her.  
  
*******  
  
"/What/?!" Draco said, echoing my earlier sentiment. "She can't make you miss Hogsmeade. That's like taking away your birthday!"  
  
I sighed, staring at the top of my four-poster while Draco sat on the edge of his bed with a look of abject horror on his face. "I know, but she won't back down. She won't even give me a decent reason."  
  
"Hmmm..." Draco suddenly looked thoughtful. There was a gleam in his eye that was extremely unsettling, because it meant he was thinking up something that was sure to get us expelled.  
  
"What are you thinking, Draco?" I asked warily.  
  
My friend grinned mischievously. "I think it's time we investigated this."  
  
I groaned. /Good Lord, help us./  
  
*******  
  
A/N: Damn, this was a hard chapter to write. First I was worried because Hagrid wasn't in OotP in the beginning, then I realized it didn't matter since this was my story and I could do whatever the hell I wanted *insert evil cackle here*. Then I had to come up with some sort of creature, which was a lot harder than I thought it'd be. THEN I had to struggle with Hagrid's accent--my deepest apologies for the horrid representation of it. Thank God I don't have to worry about that for a while.  
  
Next chapter: What do Slytherins do on the weekend? What is Draco cooking up? Exactly /how/ illegal is it? Also (maybe) another Defense class.  
  
Gkey: Yes, Blaise is the guy that can see Thestrals. When I was reading that part in OotP I was like, "Hey! That's my Blaise!" But ya know, they still didn't mention his name. Damn them!  
  
Faxton: I couldn't believe who they killed off, either! I mean, couldn't they have killed off Pansy instead? The world would've been a much better and happier place. I agree that Rowling really needs to put in Blaise. Like I was saying to Gkey, the closest thing since the Sorting is in OotP when she mentions a Slytherin boy who can see Thestrals. I don't care what anyone else says, THAT WAS BLAISE! *cough* Anyway, glad you liked the chapter. More Fae soon, I promise!  
  
Porphyrophobic Grape: I agree, spontaniousness does rule. Actually, my stories end up a lot better if I only have a vague idea where I'm going, probably because then I don't have to re-plan everything if I decide to change it. I dunno. The plots always end up a lot more complex than I can believe by the end. Oh well. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
stubbornarse: Wha...? *looks between stubbornarse and meishame, utterly confused* You mean... you're the same person? But... you have two different names! Golly gee, I'm so confused... Right, anyway, I'm glad you like Draco. I love the man, he's so evil.  
  
JeanB: There will be a bit (read: a lot) of questioning of beliefs later on, and it'll probably get pretty angsty. I'm so mean to these characters, it's not even funny. I just hope you guys won't murder me once it happens. 


	9. Something Tells Me I'm Going to Regret T...

"The way I see it, you have two options," Draco said from where he was perched precariously on the edge of his bed. "First, you can let the whole thing drop and stay out of trouble like a good little boy."  
  
Huh, not likely. "And my other option?"  
  
Draco grinned impishly. "You find the information yourself."  
  
I raised an eyebrow, eyeing him warily. "Go on."  
  
"All we have to do is get into your aunt's office. If there's anything to find, it'll be in there."  
  
I stared at him, not entirely sure I'd heard him correctly. "You want me to break into Fae's office."  
  
"Not you," he said, shaking his head. "Us."  
  
"Draco, have you /completely/ lost your mind?" I asked, failing miserably in my attempt to keep my voice calm. "Fae's a teacher, one who wouldn't hesitate to separate your head from your body if she felt so inclined."  
  
"Yeah, but what a way to go, eh?" Draco said cheerfully, totally unfazed. "Come on, it's going to bug you for ages if you don't do something about it."  
  
Well, he had a point there. "There'll be wards," I warned.  
  
"We can work around them."  
  
"It's very likely we'll get caught." Despite my words, I felt my resolve weakening and my curiosity taking over.  
  
"What else is new?" Draco smiled, sensing victory. "Don't be such a stiff, Blaise. If nothing else, it'll keep you out of those damn books for a few hours."  
  
I pretended to think it over, but really I'd already made my decision. "When can we do this?"  
  
*******  
  
Draco's plan was so asinine, so unbelievably insane that it just might work. All we had to do was sneak into Fae's office and have a look around. With a little luck, we'd find something useful and not get ourselves expelled in the process.  
  
Note to self: never, under any circumstances, listen to Draco again.  
  
"You don't have to come, you know," I said for the ten thousandth time as we slipped out of the Common Room and down the darkened hallway. It was just about midnight on Saturday, so the corridors were eerily empty and silent.  
  
"Yes, I do," Draco said firmly. "It's my idea. Besides, if you got expelled, who would get me through Ancient Runes?"  
  
"Well, you could always ask Granger," I said slyly.  
  
Draco gaped at me. "You're kidding, right?"  
  
"Yes, Draco. I'm kidding."  
  
We crept along the darkened corridors, hugging the shadows as best we could and keeping an eye out for teachers on patrol. Five staircases, three secret passages, and a handful of detours later, we arrived at Fae's office. I stood there for a moment, steeling my nerves, before pointing my wand at the lock and whispering, "/Alohomora/."  
  
Nothing happened, but then, I really hadn't expected it to. "Well, looks like we'll have to do it the hard way." I reached into my pocket and pulled out what looked very much like a Swiss Army knife. The difference was, instead of having screwdrivers and scissors, it had several small rods of varying thickness and length, designed to pick any sort of lock if handled correctly. I smirked, remembering that it was Fae who'd given it to me and taught me how to use it.  
  
"Keep an eye on the time, Draco," I said, picking a rod and inserting it into the keyhole. I'd figured we'd have maybe ten, fifteen minutes before Fae could get there if she did happen to have wards to alert her. It wasn't much, but it would have to be enough.  
  
A few moments later, the lock disengaged with a satisfying /click/ and I pushed the door open. We hurried inside, leaving the door open a fraction of an inch. The last thing we needed was to be locked in.  
  
We lit our wands and set about searching the room, Draco starting with the shelves, and me moving to check out the desk. There were papers scattered and piled haphazardly across its face, most of which seemed to be lesson plans in varying stages of completeness. I moved on to the top drawer, surprised when it came open without much urging, but found only a stack of pop quizzes Fae'd given the sixth year Ravenclaws the day before. I pushed the drawer shut and yanked open one beneath it, sifting through its contents as quickly as I dared. A letter from the French Minister of Magic saying something about a colony of trolls, a postcard from some school- friend of Fae's who was stationed in Germany... dammit, wasn't there /anything/ helpful in here?  
  
I was about to give up and move on when a slightly crumpled piece of parchment caught my eye. Pulling it out from near the bottom of the drawer, I realized it was a letter. Curiosity peaked, I skimmed over the letter.  
  
/Specter--I trust you are well, though I can't say the same for the rest of us.  
The Order is on the move, and they aren't exactly happy with us. No doubt  
you've already heard about Cub; he's only the latest and most publicized of  
our losses at their hands. I was there when they found him, barely one piece  
was recognizable as human. At any rate, I'm glad you're still with us, even  
though you're tied down at the moment. Do me a favor and tell me if you  
notice anything off, it could be useful. Give my regards to Artisan, and be  
careful--Viper/  
  
I blinked. What the hell? Before I could figure anything out, Draco glanced at his watch. "We'd better get going. It's almost been ten minutes."  
  
I shook my head, trying to clear the jumbled mess of thoughts that were chasing each other around in my head. "Right. Let's go."  
  
We put everything back approximately where it'd been before, then slipped out of the office, making sure to close the door quietly behind us. Doing our best to move swiftly and silently, which is a feat unto itself on stone flooring, we rounded a corner and were just breathing sighs of relief when a figure stepped out of the shadows. I froze as I found a wand aimed directly between my eyes. "Going somewhere?"  
  
It took me a few moments to stop staring at the dark wand that could very well kill me, and look beyond it to see Fae, who had a glint in her eye I'd only seen once before and had hoped never to see again; the man it had been directed at last time hadn't been able to walk for three months afterward. I gulped, realizing I was in serious shit.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy, go back to your dorm," Fae said, not taking her eyes off me. Draco looked about to protest, but thought better of it when I shook my head frantically. /Run, you fool! Save yourself while you still can!/  
  
As if he heard my silent plea, Draco smiled apologetically, then made a hasty retreat. Once he was gone, however, I was on my own. Just me and Fae.  
  
Sweet Lord, have mercy...  
  
Fae motioned for me to turn around with her wand, then marched me back the way I'd come, finally stopping in front of her office. She unlocked the door and pushed it open. "Get in." Too terrified to argue, I obeyed without complaint, shuddering slightly as the door locked automatically behind Fae. "Sit." I sat.  
  
Unlike our last meeting, Fae remained standing, glowering at me. "Blaise, what the /hell/ were you thinking?! Of all the stupid, idiotic things you could've done--did you honestly think I wouldn't find out, that I wouldn't catch you?!" I fixed my gaze on the floor as if it was the most fascinating thing I'd ever seen, unable to stand how she was looking at me. "I thought you were smarter than that, Blaise. I thought that, after all I've done for you, you'd respect me a little more than that."  
  
"And I thought you'd trust me enough to give me a reason when you forbid me to do something," I snapped, unable to stop myself. "So I guess we're even."  
  
Fae raised an eyebrow. "Is that was this is about? Here I thought it was something important." She moved so she was directly in front of me, but I doggedly refused to look up. "Blaise, look at me." When I didn't comply, she put one hand on the armrest of my chair and forcefully shoved my chin up with the other so I looked her in the eyes.  
  
"I want you to listen very carefully, Blaise," she growled, her face inches from mine. "I don't care what information you feel I owe you; you have no business in my office. If you come anywhere near this room without my leave, or if I find you're digging where you shouldn't be, I will do everything in my power to make you wish you'd never crossed me. Do you understand?"  
  
I nodded fervently, wide-eyed. "Yes, ma'am."  
  
"Good." Fae straightened abruptly, still scowling. "As it is, you now have a week's detention and have lost fifty points for Slytherin. I hope that keeps you from playing detective in the future." I nodded again to show I understood. "Now get out."  
  
I stood up and left the room with as much dignity as I could while trying to get away as fast as possible. Once I turned the corner, however, I forgot all about my dignity and broke into a run, sprinting the rest of the way to the Common Room.  
  
Draco was waiting for me by the fire and looked immensely relieved when I turned up, gasping for air and clutching my side. "Are you alright? What happened? What did she do?" he asked as he helped me over to a chair, which I immediately collapsed into. Fighting to catch my breath, I filled Draco in on everything that'd happened and what was in the letter I'd found.  
  
"Damn," Draco said, shaking his head in disbelief. "She's taken psycho- bitch to a new extreme."  
  
"You can say that again," I said with a sigh. "I wish I knew what she was up to, though."  
  
"I take it you're not about to let this go, then."  
  
"Hell no. Fae is just an obstacle we'll have to work around." I leaned back in my seat and stared at the ceiling, thinking hard. "She's mixed up in something, and I'm going to find out what it is. Tonight was just a minor set-back."  
  
"Well, at least you found something useful," Draco said. At my confused glance, he added, "The letter."  
  
"Oh. That. It /would/ be useful if only I knew what the hell it was about."  
  
Draco rubbed the back of his neck, thinking. "Well, those names--Specter, Cub, and whatnot--those have to be nicknames or code-names of some sort, right?"  
  
"Yeah," I said, turning it over in my mind. "So Specter is obviously Fae, seeing as that's who it's addressed to, but who are those other people? How are we even supposed to guess?"  
  
"I don't know," Draco said, shrugging. "What about this 'Order' you mentioned? Do you have any idea what that's all about?"  
  
"No," I said regretfully. "But it doesn't sound like they get on very well, does it?"  
  
"Do you know of an organization that'd be against your aunt?" Draco asked.  
  
I shook my head. "No, the only people I know with vendettas against her are lone individuals, and most of them are in jail so they wouldn't be able to do anything about it anyway."  
  
Draco rubbed his eyes tiredly. "How are we supposed to figure this out when we don't even know where to start?"  
  
*******  
  
We threw ideas back and forth for hours, each one seemingly more ridiculous than the last. Since there wasn't anything to prove or disprove any of them, it was rather pointless, but that didn't stop us. It wasn't until the sun had peaked over the horizon and its rays filtered through the enchanted window (it wouldn't do much good to have a normal window, being as we were underground) in our dorm that Draco and I finally called it a night.  
  
I was awoken much earlier than I'd have liked by something landing on my face. Blinking sleepily, I realized it was a small roll of parchment. Who the hell would send me a note at this hour? "This better be important, or I swear I'm going to kill someone," I grumbled.  
  
The note turned out to be from Ryan, asking if I wanted to meet up in the library later. I rolled my eyes (only a Ravenclaw could be so hopelessly boring) and was fully prepared to send the boy a Howler for disturbing my sleep, but then I noticed the clock on my bed-stand, which showed it was almost noon. I scowled; half a day gone and I hadn't even done anything yet. This was why I usually went to bed at a decent time.  
  
Deciding it was about time I accomplished something, I dug in a drawer for a quill, flipped the scrap of parchment over, and scribbled an affirmative reply, then gave it to the waiting barn owl. As soon as the note was secure, the bird flapped hard on the dead air and flew into the enchanted window, disappearing as suddenly and completely as a person would under an Invisibility Cloak. I knew it would appear out of another such window, presumably in the owlry, that was set up for the express purpose of getting mail to and from the Slytherin dormitories. Our patriarch may have been a murderous sociopath, but he had to have been quite brilliant to think up something like that.  
  
I dragged myself out of bed, my barely-functioning brain noting that Crabbe and Goyle had already left, and lazily sifted through my trunk for something to wear. On a whim, I threw a bundle of socks at Draco, who hadn't bothered to close his curtains, and smiled in satisfaction as it bounced off his forehead. Draco woke with a start, glancing around in search of his assailant, his gray eyes finally resting on me. I looked away and whistled innocently. For some unfathomable reason, this didn't deter him from grabbing his alarm clock and chucking it at me. He seemed rather disappointed when it missed and crashed loudly against the wall opposite.  
  
"Damn it, Zabini! Don't you have someone else you can torment?"  
  
"Sure I do, but they're not nearly as much fun as you, Dragon-boy," I said with a grin.  
  
Draco glared. "Don't call me that."  
  
"Why not? That's your name, after all, so--"  
  
"Blaise, don't force me to kill you."  
  
"Right, shutting up now..."  
  
*******  
  
A/N: Wow, I never expected such a strong reaction from that last chapter. I just hope this chapter lived up to your expectations. Who else thinks Fae needs psychiatric help? Don't worry, she /does/ have a decent explaination for her actions, she just chooses not to share it with the rest of the world. How was everyone else's holiday weekend? I was nearly trampled by a herd of cats and both my cousins had to work, so I was stuck with nothing to do but listen to the old people talk. It was /great/. At least the food was good, but the cats kept trying to steal it, especially the one my brother named Lawn Meower.  
  
Next chapter: The excitement of the library. More classes. Possibly detention? Tune in next time to find out!  
  
Gkey: Hope this one was worth the wait. I'm really mean, I know, but it couldn't be helped.  
  
Faxton: Sorry, you'll have to wait a bit more to find out exactly why Fae's being so overly protective/extremely psychotic. I'm just evil like that. But hey, I gave you all a clue, right? You can't hate me for that... I hope...  
  
JeanB: I'm glad I've got you wondering. I wouldn't be so sure you won't murder me just yet; I've got some very mean things happening in my head and the plot bunnies won't let me leave them. Well, I probably wouldn't change them anyway, but hey.  
  
stubbornarse: Hey, the chapter wasn't THAT short! Not as long as most of the others, but still. I'm glad you liked it anyway, and don't worry; I won't forget about you guys.  
  
Porphyrophobic Grape: Lucky you! I love the coast (even though I've only been there once), but I always get stuck on a farm for my holidays. Oh well. I'm glad you didn't think Hagrid's accent was too atrocious. I had to keep checking back in the books to see if I was at least getting it /sort of/ right.  
  
Love it? Hate it? Think I should be thrown into the Ninth Precinct of the underworld? Tell me! 


	10. Just When I Thought It Couldn't Get Odde...

"Honestly, Blaise..." Ryan shook his head with a strange mix of horror and amusement, apparently at a loss for words. I'd just finished regaling my most recent misadventure to him in a hushed whisper, all the while keeping an eye out for unwanted listeners between the bookshelves. "You really are lucky you didn't get suspended," Ryan said at length.  
  
"I know, but that's not the point," I said, scanning the library for the umpteenth time before locking my gaze intently on Ryan. "Look, I need you to do me a favor."  
  
"What kind of favor?" Ryan asked, eyeing me suspiciously. He had every right to be wary, as he was very familiar with my past exploits.  
  
I smiled in what I hoped was a reassuring way. "Don't worry, it's nothing that'll get you in trouble. I just need you to look up a few things for me."  
  
"And why can't you do this yourself?"  
  
"Because, Ryan, if /I/ was caught looking for these things, I'd be in serious shit. Again. But if /you/ were found with this information, you wouldn't be in any sort of trouble."  
  
Ryan seemed to consider this for a moment, then nodded. "What sort of things am I looking for?"  
  
I tapped the point of my quill on my parchment in a fashion reminiscent of Morse code. "I need you to find anything you can about that Order I mentioned."  
  
"Do you know what it's called? Or is it just called The Order?"  
  
"I don't know," I admitted, sighing dejectedly.  
  
"Do you know what it's about?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Do you at least know what sort of people are in it?"  
  
I shook my head. "Nope."  
  
Ryan raked his fingers through his dark hair in frustration. "So basically all you know is they have some sort of vendetta against your aunt, or people like her? That's /loads/ of help."  
  
"Hey, all I'm asking is you look for something, anything that might be helpful," I pleaded. "I'd even be happy with some vague reference in a history book that only has a slim chance of being related. Please? I'm desperate."  
  
"Oh, all right. I'm not promising I'll find anything, though."  
  
*******  
  
Monday went by much faster than I would've liked, as I had detention with Snape to look forward to. Despite my fervent prayers for some massive natural disaster to flood out the dungeons, I found myself outside of the Potions classroom that evening, hoping against hope that Snape wouldn't hold my loss of points against me. The rest of the Slytherins didn't take it too well (Pansy had threatened to break every bone in my body before Draco intervened), but a person couldn't really guess Snape's reaction by the response of his House. Of course, my housemates didn't know anything other than I'd broken curfew, while Snape had probably heard the whole story, unedited.  
  
I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the worst, and knocked. The door swung open on its own accord a second later. Taking this as an invitation, I entered and was surprised to find I wasn't the only victim subject to Snape's supervision. A rather petite girl with flaming red hair that identified her as a Weasley was standing beside Snape's desk, looking both nervous and defiant. Snape just looked irritated.  
  
"Ah, Mister Zabini," drawled Snape in a steely tone that made me cringe. Yes, he was definitely angry with me. "Now that you've decided to grace us with your presence, perhaps we can start. You two will be cleaning out potion vials--no magic." He motioned to where at least two hundred of the aforementioned vessels of various shapes and sizes were collected on a row of desks. "I want them /spotless/, mind you. I don't need any potions fouled up because you couldn't clean the container properly. You'll find everything you need by the sinks." With that, Snape left us to it while he corrected papers at his desk.  
  
Weasley and I trudged over to the sinks, resigned to a very long, very boring night. This wasn't the first time I'd had to do this, so I already knew the fastest and easiest technique for scouring a potion vial, and this fact only made the task more tedious. After a while, my mind began to shut down all non-essential functions, including tangible thought. It was a very odd feeling. Once finally I realized what was happening, I hurriedly cast about for something to distract me.  
  
I settled, for lack of anything better, on the Weasley girl, who had adopted a rather crude method of cleaning. She simply filled the flask and then dumped it, over and over. It did work, but it took an infuriatingly long time to get anything properly clean. I knew I'd be stuck there until all the vials were immaculate no matter what, so I decided to speed the process up a bit.  
  
"What, exactly, are you doing?" The moment the words came out of my mouth I was mentally kicking myself. Sure, Blaise, that'll get a great reaction. Good job.  
  
Weasley, who had been ignoring me up to this point, looked up with raised eyebrows and a slightly annoyed expression. "What does it /look/ like I'm doing?" she asked, not bothering to use a civil tone. "I'm cleaning, genius."  
  
"/Obviously/," I said, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. "Allow me to rephrase the question in a way you can understand: why do you insist on doing it the hard way?"  
  
Weasley was indignant. "What's wrong with the way I'm doing it? These things are getting clean, aren't they?"  
  
"There's nothing wrong with your way if you want to stay here until four in the morning," I said calmly, dipping a flask under the jet of water pouring from a gargoyle's mouth. "Personally, I'd like to be done while we're still young."  
  
"All right then, what's so great about how you're doing it?" she asked dubiously.  
  
"Well, for one thing, it's a hell of a lot faster." Weasley looked doubtful, so I selected a vial with a sickly yellow liquid dried on the inside from the vast collection. "Watch and be amazed." I proceeded to show her how tilting the flask at the right angle would make the water spin, effectively cleaning the inside and saving a lot of time.  
  
Instead of thanking me, however, Weasley seemed even more irritated, though whether it was at me or at herself for not thinking of it before, I couldn't say. "Why couldn't you have shown me this an hour ago? It could've saved me a lot of frustration!"  
  
I held up my hands in a placating gesture. "Hey, I was just trying to help. There's no need to bite my head off."  
  
Weasley tilted her head to the side and studied me like she was seeing me for the first time. "Why?"  
  
"Er... what?" Did I miss something?  
  
"You said you were trying to help me," she said plainly. "I'm wondering why."  
  
I blinked in surprise. What kind of a question was that? "I told you, I want to get this over with as quickly as possible," I said, returning to my menial task.  
  
"So?"  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
Weasley sighed in exasperation. "So, what's your point? In case you hadn't noticed, I'm a /Gryffindor/. You're a /Slytherin/. Slytherins do not help Gryffindors, regardless of the circumstances."  
  
"You obviously don't know much about Slytherins, then."  
  
"I know enough," she said. "Most wouldn't give a damn if they got out of detention late as long as the Gryffindor was stuck staying, too."  
  
"That's because they have nothing better to do," I said frankly. "Taunting Gryffindors is the highlight of their day."  
  
"And you're not one of those people?" Weasley asked, sounding more curious than anything else.  
  
"Not usually," I said with a smirk. "Though if the person annoys me I'll make an exception."  
  
"I'm flattered," she said smoothly, picking up on the veiled compliment.  
  
"You should be."  
  
Weasley smiled. "Are all Slytherins smartasses or are you just special?"  
  
"I'm special," I said. "The rest are just asses."  
  
Weasley stifled what sounded suspiciously like laughter, earning an annoyed look from Snape. "Well put." She held out her hand. "I'm Ginny Weasley, by the way."  
  
Ignoring the voice in my head that screamed I was fraternizing with the enemy, I shook the proffered limb and smiled. "Blaise Zabini, at your service."  
  
*******  
  
"Alright, I'm assuming you all practiced your blocks over the past week and have a pretty good grasp of things," Fae said, eyeing the class critically. A few people nodded, but most just watched her nervously. "Good, because today we're having a test."  
  
The students' anxiousness was quickly replaced by horror. A /test/? Surely she wouldn't try to curse them?  
  
Actually, she would. The class watched with bated breath as Cassandra was called to the front first, looking very much like a lamb about to be slaughtered. The hand holding her wand was trembling so violently she couldn't even manage the first movements of the block and soon found herself flat on her back in a Full Body-Bind.  
  
"This is a perfect example of what /not/ to do," Fae said, releasing the curse. "If you freeze, there's no way you'll block anything. You have to /believe/ you can block it, /know/ you can block it. Otherwise, you haven't got a chance."  
  
Fae then proceeded to go through each student, throwing hexes at them until they could at least partially deflect them. The class had to learn fast, or they would be subjected to disturbing and embarrassing curses. Goyle tap- danced half-way around the room, Millicent sang "We All Live in a Yellow Submarine" opera-style (much to the confusion of the class), and Pansy had a marble-sized wart on her nose before Fae removed the charms.  
  
When it came to be Draco's turn, he marched to the front of the room, looking determined, if a little nervous. He managed to partially deflect the first curse Fae shot at him, but still ended up gasping for breath as the remnant of the hex hit him straight in the chest. When Fae released the curse, he immediately straightened and braced himself for another, managing to block the second completely.  
  
The class applauded, as he had been the most successful one so far.  
  
"Excellent, Mister Malfoy," Fae said as Draco took his seat. "Mister Zabini, you're next."  
  
I moved to stand opposite Fae, my wand held loosely in my hand. Fae shot a Leg-Locker curse and nodded her approval when I dispelled it without any trouble. "Good. Let's try again, shall we?" She smiled apologetically and raised her wand.  
  
My eyes narrowed suspiciously. What the hell was she up to?  
  
That question was soon answered as Fae brought down her wand and cried, "/Ariecus!/"  
  
/Bloody hell!/  
  
I dodged to the side just in time, feeling the heat from the curse as it brushed past me. I stared at the wall where the hex had hit for a moment, gasping for air like I'd just sprinted a mile, then turned to my aunt. "Are you /completely/ out of your mind?!"  
  
Fae smirked. "Not completely. Have a seat, Mister Zabini."  
  
I stared for a moment, still rather stunned, then drifted back to my desk.  
  
Fae turned back to the other students, a few of whom were staring in shock, while the others just looked confused. "Can anyone tell me what just happened here?"  
  
"Blaise wussed out," Pansy said smugly, ignoring my glare.  
  
"What makes you say that, Miss Parkinson?"  
  
"Well, he didn't even /try/ to block the spell," Pansy said matter-of- factly. "He just jumped out of the way."  
  
"Exactly," Fae said enthusiastically. "Does anyone know /why/ he dodged the spell instead of blocking it?"  
  
"Because he didn't think he could block it," Cassandra answered.  
  
I rolled my eyes. /Thank you, Captain Obvious./  
  
"But /why/ didn't he think he could block it?"  
  
"The spell was too strong," Draco said abruptly. "He knew it wouldn't make any difference even if he pulled it off."  
  
"Exactly, Mister Malfoy." Fae rubbed her hands together, a sure sign she was pleased. "If a spell is strong enough, no block will be able to stop it. The most important thing to remember when using a block is to not overestimate its strength."  
  
"Then why are we learning the block if it only works for weaker spells?" Cassandra asked. Several people nodded in agreement.  
  
Fae smiled slightly. "Because, Miss Cretian, it can save you time and energy in the middle of a fight. If you don't have to dodge around every curse thrown at you, you can last a lot longer. Of course, then you have to have a good grasp on curses so you know which are blockable and which aren't."  
  
The bell clanged loudly and the class jumped up to leave, barely acknowledging as Fae assigned a two foot essay on blocks.  
  
*******  
  
A/N: I apologize taking longer to post this chapter than the others. My brain took a vacation for three or four days and refused to return, despite my piteous begging and pleading. It didn't even send a postcard, the evil wench. I attempted to write anyway, but all that came out was crap. I wasn't so far gone to not realize it was crap, so I didn't post it. It wasn't just my writing that suffered, either; I was barely functioning at all. Thankfully, my brain came back two days ago and was completely willing to help get this chapter up and running. And it's not even late, technically. *grins* So you can't hate me. Haha!  
  
If the first part seems a little weird, keep in mind that I was listening to Zelda whilst typing (I'd left the N64 on and was too lazy to go turn it off), and hearing the theme for Hyrule Field over and over and having that stupid chicken crow every ten minutes can do strange things to your mind. That's my excuse, anyway.  
  
Thanks again to all my reviewers!  
  
Next chapter: I'm not sure why I do this cuz it always changes anyway, but here goes... the aftermath of Defense class. More detention (sigh) and discussions.  
  
stubbornarse: I didn't really make it a secret they were going to get caught, did I? Just a bit of blatantly obvious foreshadowing on my part. I have to admit, I did have a great deal of fun writing that scene, though. My poor, poor characters... what did they ever do to deserve me?  
  
Gkey: Omigosh, I can die happy now! That's the highest praise an author could ever hope to hear. Thank you! *beams* But anyway, to answer your question: no, Draco isn't a Death Eater here. I don't think he'd be much use anyway, being only fifteen. Besides, I've got other plans for him... *cackles*  
  
JeanB: Wow, so many questions and so few I can answer. I can tell you that, yes, this all involves the OotP, though probably not the way you're thinking. You're right about the Daily Prophet article, though. Blaise is just too distracted by other things at the moment to realize it. Is Fae one of the bad guys? Well, I suppose that depends on what side of the war you're on... The main thing to remember is that this is very, VERY A/U, and that everything will be explained in time. Have patience, tadpole, the answers shall come.  
  
Faxton: You know me too well. *grins* Of /course/ I'm not going to let you know who those people are yet! That'd be too nice, and I'm just not a nice person. 


	11. Chapter Eleven, Revisited

Several weeks passed, September heat faded into the expecting repose of October, and life at Hogwarts settled into its regular routine. In preparation for our O.W.L.s in the spring (something the professors constantly reminded us of), our workload had increased threefold from the year before. It seemed we had essays each week in every single class, including Care of Magical Creatures, and I was beginning to wonder just how many essays Hagrid would be able to assign on Bane Wolves before he was forced to move on to something else.  
  
Despite the rather bad start to the year, Hagrid's class had actually gotten quite interesting. The man had built a pen for the wolves by our second lesson, and the creatures were much more docile when they were able to move about. However, this didn't keep them from growling and snapping at a few of the students. The wolves let the others come near them and maybe even touch them, but a handful, with Pansy included, had to stay a good distance away if they didn't want to risk losing a limb. I found this incredibly funny, but Draco informed me, by way of death glares and hissed threats to stop laughing before he hurt me, that I was wrong.  
  
Quidditch was looming on the horizon, and the Slytherin team was determined to win the Cup back. With Montague at the helm and Crabbe and Goyle replacing the graduated Beaters, the season looked to be a good one. Our main obstacle, as usual, was the Gryffindor team, but Montague hoped that without Wood to beat them into submission, they might get lax. They also had to find a half-way decent Keeper, and, from what I heard, the Weasley they recruited wasn't nearly good enough to stop our Chasers.  
  
Even so, the Slytherin team was practicing like mad in preparation of their first match against Ravenclaw. It wouldn't do to be crushed right away in the season.  
  
"It's pointless, you know," said Ryan one evening in the library. We'd long ago given up the pretense of doing homework and were in deep discussion over the following week's match. "They can practice all they want, but there's no way they'll get past this year's team."  
  
"You sound pretty confident for someone whose team hasn't even been in the running for years," I said with a smirk.  
  
"Hey, we would've beat you last time if Flint hadn't dive-bombed our Chaser while the ref wasn't looking," Ryan repeated for the millionth time. "The whole team is full of bloody cheaters."  
  
"We don't cheat, Ryan," I said flatly. "We simply bend the rules how we see fit."  
  
"Well, whatever you call it, it's not going to help you next week. Ravenclaw is going to kick your ass."  
  
"Oh? And what makes you say that?"  
  
"Half your team is new," Ryan said confidently. "It'll take a while for them to start to actually work together. Our team, however, only lost one Chaser from the last season, and the replacement has been on the reserves since his second year. There's no training-in period for us."  
  
"Maybe, but Slytherin has clocked in way more practice time. And besides, our Seeker is much better than yours."  
  
Ryan glared at me as though I'd just insulted his mother. "Chang is the best Seeker we've had in a long time."  
  
"Just because the rest sucked ass, it doesn't mean Chang is awesome," I said with a smile. "She couldn't catch the Snitch if it was roped to her wrist."  
  
The Ravenclaw gaped, rather resembling a fish out of water, but quickly collected himself. "All right, if you're so sure you'll win, you won't mind partaking in a little bet."  
  
I grinned widely. "Not at all. How much?"  
  
"A Galleon?"  
  
"Make it five."  
  
"You're on." We shook on it. It had become something of a tradition for us to wager on the games, though why Ryan was so willing to part ways with his money was a mystery to me. I didn't rightly care, though, so long as it was me he was losing it to.  
  
We both jumped as a black streak dropped onto the table with a soft /thump/.  
  
My cat often prowled about the school, especially the library, as it was an ideal place for her to partake in one of her favorite activities: hunting first years and Gryffindors. She particularly enjoyed dropping onto their shoulders from atop a bookcase, but sometimes settled for borrowing small items and conveniently forgetting to return them, as was currently the case.  
  
Athena laid a thin roll of parchment onto the table in front of me and settled herself on my open Transfiguration text. "Hey, girl," I said quietly, rubbing her under the chin. She closed her eyes, purring contentedly. "What poor sap did you rip this off of?"  
  
That question was soon answered as a rather flustered Ginny Weasley appeared from behind a bookcase. She froze when she spotted Athena lounged atop the table, her eyes traveling from the cat to the parchment beside her, and finally resting on me. "Hello, Blaise."  
  
I couldn't help but grin. "Ginny, darling," I drawled, noting how the girl paled slightly as I picked up the roll of parchment and turned it over slowly in my hands. "How are you?"  
  
"Great, until a certain creature decided to take a certain item from my possession," she said, eyeing Athena reproachfully in case I didn't catch what she meant by 'certain creature'. Athena meowed innocently, but hopped off the table in search of less hostile company.  
  
"Oh, you mean this parchment is /yours/?" I asked, feigning a look of surprise. "I had no idea!"  
  
"Blaise, just shut up and give it to me."  
  
"I'm afraid I can't do that, Gin." At her frustrated sigh, I explained. "It could be cursed, or from some perverted stalker out to kidnap you. I simply /can't/ let you see it until it's been checked over."  
  
"I appreciate your concern, but I'll take my chances," Ginny said, making a grab for the parchment.  
  
I quickly pulled it out of her reach and gave her a pitying look. "You poor, brave soul," I said, shaking my head. "What could be so important that you're willing to risk life and limb to see it?"  
  
"That, good sir, is none of your business." Ginny stepped my other side, trying to snatch the parchment, but I switched it to my other hand and held it away from her. "Come on, Blaise. Give it back."  
  
"Not until you tell me who it's from," I said with a wicked grin.  
  
Ginny rolled her eyes, but conceded. "Fine, if you must know, it's from Michael Corner."  
  
"Aha! I told you it was from a sick, twisted pervert." Ryan let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like laughter, but quickly attempted to compose himself when I glanced sharply at him. "Is there something you'd like to share with the class, Ryan?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"Oh, nothing important," Ryan said in a would-be casual voice. The effect was somewhat ruined by the fact that he broke out in a fit of giggles immediately after he finished speaking. Most undignified.  
  
I turned back to Ginny, who seemed torn between being offended and amused. "Why do I get the feeling I'm missing something?"  
  
"Because you are." Ginny allowed herself a small smile. "Michael is my boyfriend."  
  
Oh dear. What can a person say to that? I suppose the decent thing would be to apologize, but really, where's the fun in that? "But Gin," I said, feigning a shocked and hurt expression. "I thought /I/ was the only one for you. Or was that all a lie?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Blaise," Ginny said sadly, patting me comfortingly on the shoulder. "It's not you; it's me. I'm just not ready for a long-distance relationship right now."  
  
"Long-distance? We live in the same castle!"  
  
"Yes, but it's so far from Gryffindor Tower to the dungeons," she said, trying very hard not to grin and not altogether succeeding. "Really, when would we ever see each other?"  
  
"Fine, be that way," I said, shoving her note into her hands, which she quickly slipped into her robe pocket, and turning away in a huff. "I know when I'm not wanted."  
  
Ryan cleared his throat loudly, once again reminding us of his presence. "As much as I hate disrupting this /touching/ conversation, I must admit I'm slightly confused."  
  
"Oh, forgive me. I seem to have forgotten my manners." All pretense of anger disappeared in an instant. "Ginny, this is Ryan Schultz. Ryan, Ginny Weasley."  
  
Ryan shot me a quizzical glance before standing and offering his hand to her. "It's a pleasure."  
  
Ginny smiled and returned the gesture. "Likewise."  
  
"Have a seat, Gin," I said cheerfully. "I haven't talked to you an /ages/."  
  
"Well, I'd like to but..." She trailed off, not sure if she should continue.  
  
"But?"  
  
"I came here with Luna--"  
  
Ryan and I didn't bother trying to contain our laughter. "Luna? /Loony/ Luna? That girl who wears butterbeer caps around her neck?"  
  
"The one and only. Anyway, she'll be wondering where I got off to." Ginny smiled wryly. "I mean, the last she saw of me, I was chasing a black cat."  
  
I waved my hand in a dismissive gesture. "She's probably got her nose stuck in some conspiracy theory magazine or something. She won't even notice if you're gone a bit longer."  
  
"Well..."  
  
"Come on, she can survive without you for another ten minutes."  
  
Ginny watched me thoughtfully for a moment, then pulled up a chair. "All right, but only for a bit."  
  
I grinned triumphantly. "I knew you'd come around."  
  
"Don't get too smug about it, Blaise," she said. "My brothers will kill me if they ever find out I'm talking to a Slytherin."  
  
"You can tell them you were talking to me and Blaise just /happened/ to be there," Ryan said with a grin. "Or do your brothers have something against Ravenclaws, too?"  
  
"Not at the moment, but that could change very quickly," she said, smiling in spite of her words. "But enough about them. How's life been treating you, Blaise?"  
  
I shrugged. "What can I say? Life's a bitch."  
  
Ginny laughed. "That good, huh?" I just smiled in response. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, it's not much better where I'm sitting."  
  
"Well, of course not. You're only about a foot away from each other." Ginny and I both rolled our eyes at Ryan, who simply smiled innocently. "What? What did I say?"  
  
I rubbed my temples. "Ryan, what did I tell you about saying stupid things in public?"  
  
"Well, /technically/ we're not in public, so anything you may or may not have said doesn't apply."  
  
"Anything I may or may not have said now applies to any and all potentially embarrassing situations and statements, regardless of whether it's in 'public', per se, or not," I said flatly. "You can take your technicality and shove it up your ass."  
  
"/Technically/," Ryan drew out the word just to annoy me, "it's not physically possible--"  
  
"Does it look like I care?"  
  
"You should."  
  
"Well, I don't."  
  
"Well, you should."  
  
"Well, I don't."  
  
"Well--"  
  
"Oh, /honestly/," Ginny said with a laugh. "How old are you, five?"  
  
I gasped in mock outrage. "That's /insulting/! How can you even /say/ that?"  
  
"No kidding!" Ryan chimed in, acting appropriately offended. "I turned six two months ago."  
  
Ginny dropped her head into her palms. "I give up. You're worse than my brothers."  
  
Ryan's eyes widened. "Now that really /is/ insulting."  
  
"Really now, Gin. That's hardly how you should speak to friends."  
  
Ginny looked up with raised eyebrows. "Oh, so we're friends now, are we?"  
  
I smiled. "Well, what would you call it?"  
  
"I don't know. It just seems... weird," she said hesitantly, as if embarrassed she was admitting this. "I mean, we hardly know each other." /And you're a Slytherin./ She didn't need to say it, but it was obvious she was thinking it. I decided to ignore that little detail.  
  
"Well," I said, sending her my most winning grin. "That's something we'll have to remedy, then, isn't it?" Ginny blushed slightly, much to my amusement. "But we'll have to save that for another time," I added with a glance to my watch. "I was supposed to be back in the Common Room fifteen minutes ago." I opted not to mention that I was supposed to be helping Draco with his Transfiguration. Somehow I didn't think that bringing him up would do much for our relationship.  
  
"Well, I'll see you later," said Ginny, sounding slightly disappointed. Not that I could blame her; I'd rather be in the company of one Hermione Granger than spend any measurable amount of time alone with Loony Luna. "I /will/ be seeing you later, right?" she added with a sly smile as Ryan and I stood to leave. "You're not going to disappear into thin air for a month again, are you?"  
  
"Come on, Gin. Would I ever do that to you?" I smiled again and strolled out of the library.  
  
Ryan, to his credit, managed to control himself until we were a safe distance down the hallway, at which point he began chuckling softly. "You are so /whipped/!"  
  
"I--what?" I gaped at him like he'd just sprouted a second, third, and fourth head. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"Oh, come off it," Ryan said, practically skipping with mirth. "You like her, admit it." I entertained the idea of knocking that stupid grin off his face, but one doesn't do that to his friends. Stupid friendship rules.  
  
"She's a /Gryffindor/, Ryan, and a Weasley to boot," I said, trying to get him to see reason. "Even if I /did/ like her--which I'm not saying I do-- it'd be impossible."  
  
"Blaise, we are the masters of impossible situations," Ryan declared with conviction. "We specialize in things no one is stupid enough to try, and we usually come out of top, somehow. So who's to say you can't see a Weasley?"  
  
"Only the whole bloody school," I grumbled as we slipped into a side stairway. "And besides, who said I wanted to?"  
  
Ryan smirked. "Who said you didn't?" When I declined to answer, he just laughed.  
  
Something brushed against my leg, and I looked down to see Athena gazing up at me imploringly. "This is all your fault you know."  
  
"What?" Ryan asked in confusion.  
  
"Not you, you idiot," I snapped. "/Her/."  
  
He followed my gaze to where Athena was trotting beside me, then turned back to me. "You realize you're talking to a cat, right?"  
  
"No, /really/? I thought I was talking to Snape."  
  
"I'm sensing an outrageous amount of sarcasm coming from you, Blaise, and I don't entirely appreciate it."  
  
"Goody for you. I don't entirely care."  
  
"You slay me, Blaise. Really, you do."  
  
*******  
  
A/N: Have you ever had one of those days where you keep getting injured? Well, I've been having one of those weeks. My back's been seized up for the past three days so I can hardly move, and I somehow managed to burn my hand on a TV dinner. I'm just talented like that. And you know what else? It's frickin' hot! Yes, I realize it's July, but really, does it have to be so humid when it's already 90 degrees? I work in a restaurant, and the grills completely void out the effect of air conditioning and then some. I didn't even know we /had/ air conditioning until one of the managers said something about it. GAH!  
  
Anyway, I apologize again for the last chapter, which has been shot and is now burning in the nether regions of the underworld. I really am not sure what I was thinking. I would truly appreciate it if you forgot everything I wrote in there. For the love of all things holy, PLEASE forget it. As for this chapter, I have no idea if British people use the term 'whipped', but I do, so you'll just have to deal with it.  
  
And also... you people are really obsessive with Ginny, aren't you? Pretty much every one of you was begging for more of her. Sheesh! There will be plenty of Ginny later on, though I can't say exactly how far the relationship will go. It's not that I won't tell you (though I wouldn't anyway, mwahaha), it's that I honestly don't know. My method of writing is basically shoving the characters into a situation and seeing what they do. Not exactly an art, but it works. We'll find out what happens together, I suppose. Wow, that sounded like a Blue's Clues episode or something. *shudder* Moving on...  
  
Thanks for all your reviews. I'll try and get the next chapter out sooner, but I'm not sure if that'll actually happen... it's the thought that counts, right? Right? Well, maybe not... 


	12. See, This is Why You Shouldn't Throw Thi...

"Who is known as the father of the modern method of Transfiguration?"  
  
Draco leaned against the headboard of his bead, repeatedly tossing a paperweight into the air and catching it as he pondered the question. The figurine was, appropriately, a fire-breathing dragon carved of jade that his mother had given him a few years before. To the best of my knowledge, the thing had never been used for its intended purpose, but Draco kept it with him so as not to offend his mother. "Philip Leon," he said dully, now tossing the stone dragon from one hand to the other. "He was a French Muggleborn who specialized in magical theory in the mid-1700s. His experiments on various objects--like his neighbor's cow--attracted the attention of local Muggles, and he was hanged in 1784 for practicing witchcraft."  
  
"Right," I said, deciding to ignore the lifeless monotone he'd adopted for the express purpose of annoying me. "What is the most important theory he's accredited with?"  
  
"The Theory of the Conjuring-Vanishing Paradox," he answered automatically, then frowned in thought. "Or was that Dawson's theory? What about the Theory of Partially Complete Transformations? And who came up with that 'progressive addendum' thing?" Draco knocked his head lightly against the headboard. "Dammit, I'm no good at this stuff. What's the /point/ anyway? I thought this was Transfiguration, not History of Useless Magics."  
  
I smiled, imagining McGonagall's expression if she heard him say that. She seemed to think that practical lessons weren't enough. Apparently, we needed a solid background of unimportant facts on the origins of Transfiguration. I didn't see much point to it. Who cares where it came from as long as it works? But, unfortunately, I had very little say in the lesson plan, which was why Draco and I were reviewing for the test the next day while Crabbe and Goyle played Exploding Snap on the other side of the room, not caring that they were still wet and muddy from Quidditch practice.  
  
"Come on, Draco. You /know/ this. Just think a little."  
  
"What does it /look/ like I'm doing, genius?" Draco sighed heavily and ran his fingers through his white-blonde hair. "I'm thinking maybe Leon came up with that Partially Complete thing. Maybe," he added, casting a furtive glance in my direction, probably hoping I'd give him a hint.  
  
I merely raised an eyebrow. "And you're planning on passing this test /how/?"  
  
"By cheating off you, of course," Draco said with a grin.  
  
"Good luck doing that under McGonagall's nose," I said. "When she's done murdering you, can I have your broomstick?"  
  
"You touch my broom and I'll kill you."  
  
"How can you kill me if you're already dead?"  
  
"Details, details," Draco said, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. "I'll figure something out, and I can promise you it won't be pleasant."  
  
"Oh, I'm trembling in my boots," I deadpanned. "Please spare me from your wrath, oh Great Malfoy."  
  
Draco mock-glared. "/Children/ these days," he grumbled. "No respect for their elders /what/-so-ever."  
  
"Being a bit older doesn't make you worthy of my respect, Mister I-was-born- a-month-before-you. It just makes you look more pathetic since I'm so much better than you."  
  
"In your dreams, maybe," Draco said, throwing his pillow at me. I caught it and chucked it back, only to duck as it flew over my head a second later and collided with a bedside table, sending it and all of its contents crashing to the floor. Crabbe and Goyle barely glanced in our direction before returning to their game.  
  
"Good job, Draco," I said sarcastically, dropping to my knees beside the mess and trying to organize all the books and papers that had spilled out of the drawer. "Well done. Why can't you knock over your /own/ stuff for once? Is that so much to ask?"  
  
"Yes, actually," Draco said cheerfully. "I happen to like most my stuff."  
  
"And all the things I have are pieces of junk that no one in their right minds would even consider having, so you're free to bust them up as much as you'd like?"  
  
Draco pretended to think this over, then nodded. "Pretty much, yeah."  
  
I sighed and began stacking the handful of books in a neat pile. My hand paused over a thick leather-bound tome that had fallen open. It was my mother's old scrapbook, its pages decorated with photos and newspaper clippings, all with handwritten commentary crowded in the borders. I smiled, skimming over the narration beside a picture of a much younger--not to mention, much smaller--Whomping Willow with a handful of boys attempting to get close enough to touch its trunk.  
  
/Idiots. Just look at them. They'll probably break an arm, and for what? A stupid game. Ah well. It'll be amusing to see them get sent to the Hospital Wing./  
  
Neater, fancier writing was scribbled beneath the first. /Hey, watch who you're calling an idiot, Elly. I've done that before./  
  
/Well, then you're an idiot, too. It seems to run in the family. And who said you could write in my book, Fae?/  
  
/I'll write wherever I damn well please. It's your own fault you keep leaving it out where I can get at it. How do you get off insulting my family, anyway? You're right though, Nate is a bit of a moron. Why else would he like you?/  
  
/I don't know. Why do YOU like me?/  
  
/... in what way do you mean?/  
  
/Oh ISH, Fae! Bad mental picture! GET IT OUT OF MY HEAD!/  
  
/Haha./  
  
/Pervert./  
  
I flipped through the pages, glancing at a few of the pictures and finally stopping on one. It was a photo of my mother's best friends, probably from fifth or sixth year, judging by the shiny Prefect badge pinned to the front of a blonde girl's robe. My eyes drifted from a young Fae, who was waving furiously, to my father, at least two inches taller than any of the others, who looked bored with the proceedings. He oh-so-casually reached over and shoved Fae out of the picture frame, whistling innocently. Fae promptly reappeared, punched my father in the arm, and resumed waving as if nothing had happened.  
  
On my father's other side was the blonde prefect, snapping her gum smartly and grinning. Beside her was a short boy who seemed vaguely familiar. He had sandy blonde hair, (presumably) blue eyes, and a boyish grin that made him look younger than he actually was. Of course, his height didn't help much, either. But it wasn't until I saw the signature that everything finally clicked.  
  
"Oh my God," I breathed.  
  
"What?" Draco asked, concerned. "What is it?"  
  
I turned to face him. "I think I've just found Cub."  
  
Draco jumped off his bed to join me on the floor. "Really? Where?"  
  
I opened my mouth to answer, but then looked past Draco and hesitated. Crabbe and Goyle, good bodyguards as they were, had yet to master the art of being ignorable when they needed to be. To their credit, they were trying to act like they weren't interested in our conversation, but they weren't anywhere near pulling it off.  
  
"Haven't you somewhere else to be?" I asked them.  
  
As a testament to their level of intelligence, they didn't catch the not-so- subtle hint that they weren't wanted. "No," said Goyle, looking confused.  
  
Draco rolled his eyes. "Crabbe, Goyle, leave for a while. I don't care where you go. Just go."  
  
The two behemoths didn't look too pleased with the arrangement, but did as they were told without complaint. When the door had closed behind them, Draco turned to me. "So, what's all this about?"  
  
"/This/ is what it's all about," I said, pointing to the name scrawled at the bottom of the picture.  
  
"'Zack Warren'," he read, then his eyes widened. "That article in the /Prophet/..."  
  
"Exactly. Doesn't it seem a bit too convenient that two people would die remarkably similar deaths in the span of a few days?"  
  
Draco looked at me with dawning comprehension. "Unless they're the same person."  
  
"I can't believe I didn't figure it out before," I said, angry with myself. "I mean, it's so /obvious/."  
  
"So what does this tell us?" Draco asked. "How is this going to help?"  
  
"Well, if nothing else, it gives us a point of reference." At Draco's curious glance, I elaborated. "Fae and Zack were friends in school, right? And it's obvious from the letter we found that they were in something together."  
  
"So you're saying that some of her other friends might be in on it, too."  
  
"Right," I said, glad that we were both on the same page, so to speak. "Either that, or they both just happened to be recruited to the same group because of their similar occupations."  
  
"Similar occupations?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow. "How are an elite law enforcement officer and a mercenary similar?"  
  
"Intensive training, for one--neither would live long without it--and they both have to be willing to engage in... somewhat controversial techniques when it comes to their line of work."  
  
While Draco pondered this, he took the time to examine the photo a little closer. "Hey, is that your aunt?"  
  
"That it is," I said, a smile playing at my lips as I watched Fae as she slapped my father in the back of the head for something he'd said. "It's kind of weird, isn't it?"  
  
"She seems so... /normal/," he muttered, eyes wandering to the other occupants of the photo. "I'm guessing that's your dad?"  
  
I glanced at where he was pointing. "Yeah," I said dully. "That's him."  
  
Draco studied me for a second, then looked back at the picture. "You know, you don't look a thing like him."  
  
I smiled, but decided not to reply. Instead, I looked about the messy dorm room, my eyes finally resting on Crabbe and Goyle's abandoned game of Exploding Snap. "You know," I said sagely. "It seems a shame to just leave those cards there."  
  
"You're right," Draco said, allowing the change of subject. "It's a crime against nature. We should remedy it."  
  
"What do you propose we do, my friend?" I asked seriously. "How can two such as ourselves combat such an atrocity?"  
  
"There's only one thing we /can/ do. We have to play Exploding Snap."  
  
I gasped. "But Draco--"  
  
Draco grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me. "Damn it, man! Don't you understand? We /have/ to do this for the sake of wizards everywhere! Do you want to live in a world where Exploding Snap decks can just be left strewn over the floor, ignored by all? Is that the kind of world you want to live in?"  
  
I shook my head fervently, and he finally let me go. I gathered what was left of my courage and looked Draco in the eye. "All right, deal me in..."  
  
*******  
  
A/N: I'm sorry for the short chapter. I wrote most of it in one day, since today's been the most time I've had to write all week. I've been clocking in extra hours up the wazoo, and to top it off, cheerleading practice starts next Monday. Two hours a day, four days a week. And school hasn't even started yet! Where is the justice?! I want time to write, damn it!  
  
Next week, I doubt there'll be a chapter because I'm going on a trip to Lake Superior for a whole week and I won't have a computer. I'll bring my notebook (I'm such a dork) so I'll get a start, though. *deadpans* Go me. Party over there. *end deadpan* But anyway, I'm hoping this is enough to tide you over until I can get something else out.  
  
Next chapter (or two... or three...): QUIDDITCH! We'll see if I can actually write it! The joy of Halloween (what, no trick-or-treating? GAH!) and some other stuff, obviously.  
  
Thanks to my loyal reviewers! I love you guys! 


	13. Then They Played Quidditch, and There Wa...

That Saturday dawned cold and wet, though you wouldn't know it from the brilliant sunshine streaming through our dorm window. The view through the glass was from somewhere far from Hogwarts (at least, I was quite sure that wide, lazy river wasn't on school grounds), and the weather varied appropriately. Often times it would be pouring rain here but perfectly clear through the window. The contrast was quite disconcerting.  
  
It was something of a shock walking across the frost-covered grounds when one is expecting it to be sunny. To make things even better, the thick clouds overhead promised snow or, if we were lucky enough, freezing rain. Oh joy. Absolutely perfect Quidditch weather, I'd say.  
  
I joined the throng of students migrating to the Quidditch pitch, feeling very much out of place. Usually I'd be arguing with Draco over who was going to win, or, at the very least, I'd have Crabbe and Goyle to act as a buffer between me and the rest of the masses. Today, however, all three of them would be playing in the game. I hated them at the moment, because I could have used a distraction.  
  
"Really, I don't know why Chang's still on the team," Millicent said haughtily, flipping her dark hair behind her shoulder. "She can't play worth a damn."  
  
"She probably did a few favors for the Captain, if you know what I mean," Pansy replied, sounding rather bored. Then again, she usually sounded that way.  
  
"You have to admit that the Ravenclaw Captain is pretty cute, though," Cassandra said with a giggle. "I mean, /I/ wouldn't mind giving him a few favors--"  
  
"/Cassandra!/"  
  
The three girls collapsed into giggles while I tried to get the image of what Cassandra was implying out of my head. There are some things you just don't want to think about. Instead, I concentrated on counting the steps up to the top of the Quidditch stands while the girls debated the finer points of the players they'd like to get a bit friendlier with. Fascinating.  
  
/Thirty-four... thirty-five... I wonder if I could get away with killing Pansy if I said it was self-defense... after all, I'm in danger of being annoyed to death... forty-one... forty-two.../  
  
I felt very much like throwing myself over the railing by the time we reached the top, but managed to resist the urge by reminding myself that the game would start in a few moments, at which point the conversation was sure to shift to something less disturbing. Hopefully. I'd be stuck next to them the whole game, unless, by chance, I fancied sitting off by myself somewhere. I'd either be trapped next to some second year wannabe who'd think I was his friend and latch onto me for an unbearably long time, or I'd be next to one of the older Slytherins, most of which would just as soon bash me to a pulp as look at me. Being unpopular does have certain disadvantages, I suppose.  
  
As sound as my logic seemed, however, I was second-guessing it a moment later as we took seats near the front of the stand.  
  
"So, Blaise," Pansy began in an almost-casual tone. "Why aren't you sitting with that Ravenclaw guy you're always off with?"  
  
"Why would I be?" I asked cautiously. I wasn't at all liking that evil smirk playing at her lips...  
  
Pansy fluttered her eyes innocently. "You two are something of an item, aren't you?"  
  
Contrary to popular belief, it is possible to choke on air, as I realized while I dissolved into a coughing fit in my shock. "Wha-/what/?"  
  
The girl took the time to adjust the setting on her Omnioculars before answering. "Well, /really/, it's quite obvious, what with you two always sneaking off together--"  
  
"We do not /sneak off/ anywhere, for one thing," I growled, fighting to control the urge to strangle the girl. "And if you start another one of those bloody rumors about me, I swear I'll hex you so bad you won't know which way is up."  
  
"No you won't, Blaise," she said, completely unfazed. "I daresay that Draco wouldn't be too happy with you if you did."  
  
"It'd be worth it," I muttered.  
  
"Sorry, what was that?"  
  
I was spared having to answer as the crowd around us erupted in cheers-- and, of course, boos directed at the opposing team--as the fourteen players filed out onto the field. It wasn't at all hard to spot Draco as he was by far the smallest person on the emerald-clad Slytherin team. From the enormity of the rest of the players, it was obvious that Montague preferred strength over speed. The Ravenclaw team, on the other hand, was made up of mostly thin, wiry students who could probably do with a few good meals.  
  
Madam Hooch followed the players onto the pitch carrying a chest containing the four Quidditch balls, her black and white referee robes fluttering in the breeze. She set the box on the ground before turning to address the assembled teams. It was impossible to hear from the stands, but I was quite certain she was warning them to play a clean game. Surely she'd realized by now that the game would get messy no matter what she said--this /was/ the Slytherin team playing, after all--but I suppose hope springs eternal.  
  
The hawk-eyed woman kicked open the chest to release the balls. The Snitch disappeared immediately, while the Bludgers hurtled to opposite ends of the pitch before doubling back toward the players. Madam Hooch mounted her broom, an action copied by both teams, tossed the Quaffle into the air and blew her whistle almost simultaneously, effectively beginning the game.  
  
The students in the stands, having been deprived of any Quidditch the year previous, once again began screaming and clapping and generally looking quite stupid as fifteen people shot into the air as one. Lee Jordan, Hogwarts's resident Quidditch announcer, kept a running commentary of the action.  
  
"...and it's Slytherin in possession, Warrington dodges around Andrews, he moves to shoot--ooh, nice steal by Rowan, he passes to Boot, who ducks a Bludger and passes to the lovely Miss Andrews, who, I have on good authority, is free on the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend, so if she's at all interested--"  
  
"JORDAN!" Professor McGonagall screeched. "If it's not too much trouble, can we get back to the /game/?"  
  
"Sorry, Professor," Jordan said cheerily, not sounding at all apologetic. "Anyway, Andrews passes back to Boot, he shoots--tough luck there, Terry. The shot is blocked by the new Slytherin Keeper, Cadnum, and the Quaffle is once again taken by the Slytherins..."  
  
And so it went. It was soon apparent that Ryan wasn't lying when he said his team was good, and they were well matched to the Slytherins. The Quaffle changed possession so many times, it got to the point where it was hard to care who had it because you knew they weren't going to score anyway. In fact, twenty minutes had passed before Montague managed to score the first goal of the game. Much celebrating ensued from the Slytherin stands, of course, after which I was quite sure my hearing was permanently damaged. Then again, it did make it easier to ignore Pansy's comments ("Don't you think it'd be awfully uncomfortable being stuck on brooms for so long? I mean, really, sitting on a thin piece of wood would be such a pain in the ass..."), so I didn't entirely mind.  
  
Ravenclaw scored several minutes later, but Slytherin took the lead again after both Bludgers were knocked toward the Ravenclaw goal posts and one broke the Keeper's nose. After a quick time-out, in which the Ravenclaws staunched the bleeding as well as they could, the game resumed at an even more furious pace, as our opposing team was itching for revenge.  
  
As soon as Hooch turned her back, one of the Ravenclaw Beaters sent a Bludger hurtling at Montague, who barely dodged in time. Soon after, Crabbe not-so-subtlely whacked Terry Boot in the head with his bat, earning boos and cries of outrage from three-quarters of the school. Boot was awarded a penalty shot, which he missed spectacularly since he still seemed a bit dizzy from his knock in the head. Tough luck, that.  
  
And all the while, Draco circled overhead, searching desperately for the Snitch with Chang marking him closely, seemingly oblivious to the violence playing out beneath him. I just hoped he found the stupid ball before somebody ended up dead. Seriously injured, maybe, but not dead.  
  
One hour, a half dozen penalties, and four cracked ribs later, the score was once again tied, and there was no sign of either team slowing up. Each was determined to gain bragging rights over the other. Coincidentally, this kind of attitude was also responsible for several major international conflicts. Can't imagine why that would be...  
  
"...Warrington advances, passes to Pucey, he shoots--COME ON, MEADOWS! CATCH--" Jordan groaned loudly as the Quaffle flew cleanly through the hoop. Many in the crowd booed loudly while the Slytherins cheered. Spoilsports. "--and it's another goal for Slytherin, making the score ninety-eighty against Ravenclaw. Rowan's taken possession and--"  
  
Whatever else Jordan was about to say was lost as the crowd jumped to its feet and started up the obligatory screaming. The cause of all the commotion was easily apparent: Draco and Chang were streaking through the air side-by-side, hardly more than a blue and green blur as they slipped through a pack of Chasers.  
  
"Come on, Draco," I muttered. Why did they have to be all the way at the other end of the pitch, dammit?! I couldn't see /anything/.  
  
It was then I was hit by the obvious solution. I quickly snatched the Omnioculars from Pansy's grasp ("What the /hell/ do you think you're doing?!") and brought them to my eyes, immediately focusing in on the two Seekers. Yes! There was the Snitch, not even a yard in front of them. Draco stretched out his arm... just a little closer...  
  
Of course, it was at this point that Pansy decided that trying to forcibly remove the Omnioculars from my person was not enough. She opted to scream at me and punch my arm in retaliation as well.  
  
Joy.  
  
"Give that /back/, you dirty bastard!" she cried, hopping on her tiptoes in her effort to reach her Omnioculars. This was one of the situations I enjoyed being slightly taller than average, especially since Pansy wasn't any giant either. It was a bit distracting, though, when you are trying to watch a game while holding someone at bay with your free arm, and that's without adding that the aforementioned other person is having one hell of a tantrum that involves much screaming and physical violence.  
  
After several seconds of unsuccessful rescue attempts, Pansy threw all caution to the wind, grabbed a fistful of my hair, and yanked, almost making me drop her Omnioculars. Ah, so /this/ was the cause of premature balding...  
  
"OW! You crazy bitch, get off me!" I yelled, trying to pry her hand off my head without causing even more damage.  
  
"Give me my Omnioculars!"  
  
"Let go of my hair!"  
  
"Not until you give that back!"  
  
"How about you give me back the hair you've so thoughtfully torn from my skull, and /then/ we can talk about your stupid gadget."  
  
"It's not /stupid/! And besides, it's /mine/, so give it /back/!" Pansy finally let go of my hair and lunged for her precious possession, but at that same moment the Slytherins' cheering increased by several decibels as Draco's fist closed around the Snitch.  
  
"Yes!" I grinned and punched the air in celebration. /Five Galleons for me!/  
  
My elation was somewhat dampened by Pansy, as usual. "You jackass! You made me miss the best part of the game!"  
  
"I did not, Pansy," I said happily. "Nothing was stopping you from watching /without/ Omnioculars. You've only got yourself to blame, dear." With that, I pushed said Omnioculars back into her hands and walked away, leaving a royally pissed Pansy behind me.  
  
*******  
  
The next few days were decidedly depressing. After the incident with the Omnioculars, Pansy made a point of being even more of a stuck-up bitch than usual. She felt the need to "accidentally" knock over my inkwell on my Transfiguration essay moments before McGonagall collected them, so I had nothing to hand in. McGonagall wasn't too happy with me and had me stay after class so she could lecture me on being prepared and taking responsibility. You can imagine how glad I was about that.  
  
In a show of exceptional patience, I waited until half-way through dinner to retaliate. I discreetly aimed my wand at Pansy while she was busy chatting with Millicent and whispered a few choice words, then pocketed my wand and waited for the spell to take full effect. I had to try very hard to concentrate on what I was eating instead of what was happening a few chairs down.  
  
Millicent, however, had nothing to keep her from staring openly. "P-Pansy!"  
  
"What?" Pansy asked, clearly unnerved by the look of abject horror on the other girl's face. Millicent, too panicked to answer, simply pointed a shaky finger at Pansy's head. Obviously confused, Pansy reached up to touch her hair, then promptly screamed as her fingers came in contact with cold scales. Her hair, once smooth and dark, had been replaced by a shifting nest of snakes, courtesy of yours truly.  
  
Of course, Pansy's scream had attracted the attention of the entire Great Hall including the Professors, who were appropriately stunned. Several girls screamed at the sight, sissies that they were, and a few actually fainted. Almost everyone else just found it hilarious, as Pansy hadn't exactly made herself popular with the other Houses.  
  
Pansy, horrified and disgusted, still had the presence of mind to be embarrassed. She jumped up from her chair so fast it actually turned over and sprinted from the Hall, trying unsuccessfully to hide the snakes with her hands.  
  
Unfortunately for me, Draco did not find this the least bit funny and leveled his fiercest glare at me. "What the hell did you do that for?"  
  
I did my best to look hurt and shocked, but as I was fighting down laughter at the time, I'm not sure it worked. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"Blaise, don't be stupid," Draco said angrily. "Who else would want to do that to her?"  
  
"Well, there's--"  
  
Draco cut me off. "Honestly, Blaise, can't you stop being an ass to her for five minutes? What did she ever do to you?"  
  
I stared, genuinely surprised this time. Where had he /been/ our entire time at Hogwarts? "Draco, I mean this in the nicest possible way, but your girlfriend is a bitch. I don't know what rock you've been stuck under to have not noticed, but she is, without a doubt, the most evil creature on the face of the earth. I'm convinced that Hell itself threw her out because it couldn't stand her anymore."  
  
Draco had the audacity to look offended. He opened his mouth to reply, then though better of it. He simply shook his head, stood, and strode out of the Great Hall, presumably to find Pansy and comfort her in her time of need. Please, gag me now.  
  
I watched him leave, alternately wanting to apologize and punch him for being so naive. I settled for a trip to the library, where hopefully I could avoid any uncomfortable confrontations until Draco calmed down a bit. Good Lord, could my life get any more complicated?  
  
*******  
  
A/N: For all those wondering, I had a great vacation (it's about time I had one, too!). Lake Superior is gorgeous, even though the water is very, very cold. *switches into Valley Girl mode* Like, they've got big rocks and, like, hills and stuff! But I didn't even get to go shopping at the mall, like! What a /complete/ waste of time! Like, look at my excessive use of exclamation points!  
  
Omigosh, I almost died when I got back and checked my email. Twelve reviews! I was almost afraid to open them because, the way I figured it, either the chapter was really good or it sucked big time, and I wasn't sure I wanted to know. But, being the gallant person I am, I scraped together my courage and went ahead anyway. Aren't you proud of me? *beams* I found out I have a boatload of new reviewers! Yay!  
  
I feel absolutely awful about this, but the next updates will probably come even slower, if that's possible. I have cheerleading practice in the mornings and work in the evenings, so my free time has shrunk to the size of a mustard seed. I officially have no life what-so-ever and I hate it. But! I shall plow valiantly on, despite my coach's best efforts to ruin any shred of social status and feeling of personal accomplishment I still possess. I will not allow this story to die a slow, painful death and sink to the murky depths of Fanfiction.net like some MarySue with a lazy author who cannot find time between soap operas to write a 400-word chapter. *gasps for breath* I shall never allow that to happen! Never, I say! Mwahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!  
  
And now, on with the review replies!  
  
JeanB: Sorry, I don't have any Hermione ships for you. I'm glad you liked that library scene, though. I wasn't sure I if it really made any sense to anyone but me. I've got an odd sense of humor, if you haven't noticed. Anyway, this will probably be really, really long. Really. So no worries about that.  
  
Jesse: *really bad hick accent* Lookie here, I hooked me another one, hyuk! *end really bad hick accent* I'm glad you like my story. Thank you!  
  
kaiyo: Wow, exactly how much sugar did you eat before you wrote that? I know what you mean about the name thing, though. My best friend and I would get into arguments over how to say 'Hermione', but it turns out we were both /way/ off. I thought it was 'her-mee-own', but she thought it was 'her- moy-nee' or something... my boyfriend still can't manage to say it right, the poor thing. My bunnies thank you for the carrots!  
  
arimel: So I'm /not/ the only person who's read Sabriel! I thought Kerrigor's name was so cool, and it fits with the rest of Blaise's name, sort of. Have you read Lirael and Abhorsen, too? I have to wait for my friend to finish with Abhorsen before I can have a stab at it (even though I'm the one who bought it for her! Excuse me while I leave the room and scream for a while), but Lirael was really good. I'm glad you're finding this funny. I simply /can't/ write things seriously, and that caused some problems when I was writing for the paper, I tell you me.  
  
Draco is the man: Thank you! I hope your socks come back soon!  
  
Rosaline: Thank you so much! I'm glad there are other people out there with my sarcastic, what-are-you-on sense of humor. And hey, this story actually has some sort of plot! Go me! Go me! *cough* Yeah, anyway...  
  
Faxton: What do you mean, 'Blaise isn't innocent'? What kind of lunacy is that? He's such a sweet, honest, considerate young man, and you go off insinuating things about him. Shame on you.  
  
SuperHyperBerryBomb: Fear not! There is a lot of Fae coming!  
  
Sequ3stered: I can totally see where you're coming from in the whole Blaise/Ginny thing. I still don't know if they'll be an item or not, but I do know Ginny will be a major character later on. And if they do end up together, Blaise will /not/ be a love-sick puppy. I can't imagine Blaise being like that in /any/ circumstance, and it'd be nauseating to write it. You haven't anything to worry about.  
  
Thanks again to all my reviewers! You guys are the awesomest awesome people ever. 


	14. Pot, Meet Kettle

Ah, the library. It's the sanctuary for the incurably bookish and the innately boring. I don't consider myself part of either category, but I was finding myself in the library with disturbing frequency, so I was well on my way to permanent membership in one or the other. Honestly, you'd think I was a Ravenclaw.  
  
It didn't at all help that I currently had not one, but /two/ half-finished Transfiguration essays spread out in front of me. One, of course, was the one I had to rewrite because Pansy had ruined the first copy, but the fact still remained that I was currently doing two assignments for the /same class/. The act went against all laws of nature and, quite frankly, it was rather frightening.  
  
Thus, I took a break from actual work and spent half an hour doodling, simply to prove I could. It wasn't quite as relaxing as, say, chopping some unfortunate thing in half, but it took my mind off my present circumstances, which was all I wanted at the moment.  
  
I was just adding the finishing touches to a rather violent sketch involving a dragon, a wooden stake, and a crudely-drawn girl when Ryan pulled up a chair across from me. "I see you're in an unusually good mood today," he said dryly, nodding toward my picture. "I'm guessing the one who's having her heart gouged out is our own Miss Parkinson?"  
  
"Gee, how'd you guess?" I asked sarcastically.  
  
"I'm just lucky, I suppose," Ryan replied nonchalantly. "Though that display at dinner may have cued me in a bit."  
  
I groaned. "Was it really that obvious?"  
  
"To me, yes," Ryan said, pulling his Charms book from his bag. "Then again, I know you've been dying to hex her for a very long time."  
  
"And how," I agreed, then frowned. "Why the hell did I just say that? It doesn't even make sense."  
  
Ryan shrugged. "It's just an expression, Blaise. It's not supposed to."  
  
"Right," I said, leaning back on my chair and twirling a quill idly between my fingers. "How long do you suppose it'll take Madam Pomfrey to turn Pansy's hair back to normal?"  
  
"Probably not too long," he said sadly. "Of course, that's assuming she knows which curse you used. Where did you find it, by the way?"  
  
I smirked. "Ryan, I come from a long line of Slytherins. We've got a whole section in our library devoted to hexes." I declined to mention that most of these hadn't been touched for ages, at least since Gran took up residence there.  
  
"Really? You'll have to show me it sometime," Ryan said. "All we have at my house are cookbooks and how-to manuals."  
  
"You poor, lost soul," I said pityingly. "How do you /live/?"  
  
"Very dully," he said frankly. "If I hadn't gotten messed up with you, I'd probably be just like Terry Boot: boring and respectable."  
  
"And an egotistical prat," I reminded him.  
  
"Ah, yes. That too," he conceded. "How he ever became a prefect, I haven't a clue."  
  
"By being boring and respectable, obviously."  
  
"Shut up, Blaise."  
  
*******  
  
I wasn't really looking forward to seeing Draco again. It was quite possible that he'd thought about the situation and realized I had every reason to hate his girlfriend, and thus wasn't angry with me anymore. On the other hand, he may have been so pissed off that he had set my bed on fire. Either way, it would be an awkward predicament, but since we live in the same dorm, it wasn't an avoidable one.  
  
It was totally understandable, therefore, that I was rather cautious when entering my dorm room. The last thing I wanted was to be turned into a newt before I was even fully inside. Thankfully, Draco was busy with his Ancient Runes assignment, which he had left until the last minute, as per usual, and barely acknowledged my presence as I crossed the room and threw myself onto my bed.  
  
I kicked off my shoes and let them fall loudly to the floor, earning an annoyed glance from Draco, which I gladly returned. Had I been prone to childish outbursts, I'd have thrown something at him. As it was, I proceeded to work on a star chart for Astronomy and made as much noise as humanly possible while doing so. I ruffled my papers every few seconds, slammed books shut whenever I wasn't using them that instant (or if I just felt like it), and generally made a nuisance of myself. It was great fun.  
  
Draco, to his credit, tried to ignore me, but Malfoys aren't known for their patience or tolerance, especially when they're already having a rather bad day. He lasted roughly ten minutes before he leveled a glare at me and snapped, "Is there something you'd like to share, Blaise?"  
  
"No, I'm just doing this for the hell of it," I said cheerfully, labeling one last star with flourish and setting the parchment aside.  
  
Draco, apparently dissatisfied with my response, saw fit to throw his Ancient Runes text at my head. I was immensely thankful that it was the slimmer grammar reference book instead of the thousand-page runes dictionary, as the latter may very well have given me a concussion. "Have you always been such a sadistic bastard, or is this a new development?"  
  
"Have you always had that stick shoved so far up your ass?" I replied mildly, wincing as I touched the mark on my forehead. There'd be an impressive bruise there in the morning. "Really, Draco, was it necessary to throw a /book/ at me? Wouldn't something less damaging have sufficed?"  
  
"Not if I wanted it to hurt," Draco growled.  
  
"Now, why would you want that?"  
  
"Don't play stupid, Blaise," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "You know why."  
  
"No, I don't. Why don't you explain it to me?" I said sarcastically. "And could you use charts and diagrams? I might get confused otherwise."  
  
I could almost hear Draco's teeth grinding together. "I'm not going to waste my time with you if you're not going to be reasonable."  
  
"I feel I'm being /very/ reasonable, Draco," I said crossly. "After all, I'm not the one who's throwing books at people."  
  
"Oh, sure. Now /I'm/ the bad guy," Draco said peevishly. "Let's just dump everything on Draco, shall we?"  
  
"Sounds good to me," I grumbled.  
  
Draco glared. "Fuck off, Zabini."  
  
At this point, I gave in to my adolescent impulses and chucked Draco's book back at him, smiling grimly as it bounced off his arm and landed on his still-wet Ancient Runes assignment, successfully smudging it beyond recognition. It took me about half a second to realize that, judging by the expression on Draco's face, I really didn't want to be around much longer unless I fancied a trip to see Madam Pomfrey. Thus, I rolled off my bed and ducked out of the room before Draco could think of something really nasty to do to me.  
  
For lack of anything better to do, I strolled up the stairs to the Common Room, but quickly decided it'd be a bad idea to stay there very long since Pansy--now completely snake-free, unfortunately--and her entourage were occupying the most comfortable chairs, gossiping about something or other. With my options now severely limited, I ended up leaving the Slytherin dorms completely and wandering the halls, regardless of the fact that curfew was in less than an hour. Detention is an insignificant thing when one has his life to consider.  
  
I roamed the darkened hallways, fuming about the unfairness of it all and only paying enough attention to my surroundings to note places to hide should a teacher come along. It was something of a surprise, then, to find myself by the statue of Eric the Iridescent, which I knew to be miles from the Slytherin dorms. I glanced at my watch, which read a quarter to eleven, and sighed. Hopefully, Draco would be sleeping by now so I wouldn't have to dodge any hexes when I returned to the dungeons.  
  
With this thought in mind, I began the long trek through the corridors, the sporadically-placed torches casting eerie shadows on the walls. This was one of the few times I was actually grateful to have spent part of my childhood with Fae; thanks to her, I was thoroughly acquainted with the night and could find my way without too much trouble. Still, it was slow going since I had to be relatively quiet to avoid anyone's notice.  
  
Several minutes later, I eased down a hidden stairway between the second and third floors, then stopped at what looked like a stone wall and listened intently to be sure no one else was around. The odd thing about this passage was that it wasn't hidden by a tapestry or portrait like most of the others, but was simply concealed by an Illusion Charm--which was designed to look exactly like the wall around it--and a conveniently placed suit of armor. As a result, it wasn't all that hard to discover as long as you weren't looking for it.  
  
I was surprised when I heard someone shift slightly from just beyond the "wall"--it /was/ past curfew, after all. All was explained a second later as incautious footsteps echoed slightly down the corridor. Realizing the first person must be a student, I stepped a bit closer to the passage's exit, my curiosity getting the better of me. Who would be up at this hour?  
  
Tentatively, I poked my head through the wall and almost laughed when I saw who it was. Ginny Weasley was peeking around the front of the suit of armor, looking a bit paler than normal. That was perfectly understandable, considering that Filch was no more than twenty feet away, standing stiffly where the corridor forked and peering about for signs of the renegade student.  
  
"Come on out," Filch said, his voice resonating through the otherwise silent passageway. "There's nowhere for you to hide."  
  
I resisted the urge to curse under my breath. The whole operation would be so much easier if he hadn't known anyone was there. Normally, it wouldn't have been a problem; I /was/ the one in the secret passage, after all, and that was much better than being the one outside who didn't know salvation was mere inches away.  
  
However, I was feeling unusually gracious at the moment, and besides, this was /Ginny/. I couldn't just leave her at the mercy of a madman.  
  
Hurriedly, I ran through my options, finally deciding on the quickest and most direct approach. I stepped fully into the corridor--it'd be a bit disturbing to see a head poking through a wall, after all--and made sure Filch was otherwise occupied as he checked in an alcove that held an old suit of armor. "Ginny."  
  
Ginny, who had been busy panicking, spun around, her eyes wide with fear. I quickly covered her mouth with my hand as she looked ready to scream. "/Shhh!/" I whispered, glancing down the hall to make sure Filch hadn't heard anything. "Be quiet!" Realizing it was just me, Ginny visibly relaxed and nodded. I lowered my hand, infinitely thankful that at least one girl in Hogwarts had the sense to listen. "Follow me."  
  
She nodded her assent. I backed into the secret passage, thoroughly enjoying Ginny's surprise as she walked through what she thought was a solid wall. Smirking, I turned and led her up the stairs as quickly as I dared. Filch undoubtedly knew about the stairway and would be prowling through it in a few minutes.  
  
At the peak of the stairs, I pushed open a portrait and slipped out into the corridor with Ginny at my heels. We rushed around a corner and down a hallway that had nothing to boast but a solitary portrait of a young woman dressed in medieval-style clothing. Deciding a quick social call was in order, I skid to a stop in front of the painting. "Morgan?"  
  
The woman, who was dozing at her cluttered desk, stirred slightly, but did not wake.  
  
"Oh, /honestly/," I muttered, then rapped sharply on the portrait frame. "Wake up, Morgan!"  
  
Morgan snapped to attention. "I'm awake!" she said loudly, glancing about sleepily for the one who'd addressed her. Settling her gaze on me, she sighed loudly. "Oh, it's you, Blaise. To what do I owe the honor?"  
  
"I was wondering if you would do me a favor," I said, giving her my most winning smile.  
  
"Somehow, I'm not surprised," Morgan said, brushing a few dark locks out of her eyes. "You never come by just to talk like a normal person. /No/, the only time you come is to leech off my generosity."  
  
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "I haven't got time to argue with you, Morgan. Are you going to help me or not?"  
  
Morgan crossed her arms and scowled. "I suppose I'll have to. Really, I don't know how you'd survive if I wasn't around to save your hide--"  
  
"Look, all I need is for you to persuade Sir Michael to keep is portrait hole shut," I said quickly before Morgan could go on one of her tirades. "Do you think you can manage that?"  
  
Her nose wrinkled in disgust. "Oh, I can manage, all right," Morgan grumbled, pushing herself up from her chair. "I think a wild rabbit could manage that coward." With that, she disappeared through the side of the painting.  
  
Smiling, I turned and headed in the opposite direction at a much more relaxed pace than before. For now, at least, we were safe.  
  
"Well, she was pleasant," Ginny said dryly, falling into step beside me. "Who /was/ that, anyway?"  
  
I smirked. "That, my dear, was Morgan la Fey. Don't mind her attitude; she's always like that."  
  
Ginny looked at me skeptically. "Morgan la Fey? Wasn't she supposed to be really evil?"  
  
I shrugged. "Well, I'm sure she was worse when she first got here, but spending a thousand years in an empty hallway would mellow anyone out, I suppose."  
  
"Or make them even more bitter," Ginny pointed out.  
  
"Or that. But there's really not much a person can do about it when they're stuck in a painting, is there?"  
  
"No, I suppose not," she said thoughtfully. The next few minutes passed in a pensive sort of silence as we made our way carefully through the castle. It wouldn't do at all if we escaped Filch only to be caught by someone else.  
  
"Blaise," Ginny said finally as we climbed yet another flight of stairs. "What are you doing out here?"  
  
"Rescuing you, of course," I said cheekily.  
  
Ginny smiled and punched my arm. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."  
  
"All right, if you must know, I was going for a walk."  
  
"A walk? In the middle of the night?" Ginny asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"Well, it wasn't the middle of the night when I /left/, obviously."  
  
"And you just decided to wander around a few hours, searching for maidens in distress?"  
  
"Basically, yes." Ginny looked at me incredulously. "Well, what do you want me to say?," I asked. "That I'm out here to avoid being slaughtered by my best friend, who, for some reason, doesn't approve of people turning his girlfriend's hair into snakes? Is that want you want to hear?"  
  
Ginny blinked, trying to make sense of what I'd said. Then her eyes went wide. "/You/ were the one that did that?'  
  
"Yes, actually," I said. "Who were you expecting, Lockhart?"  
  
"Well, no," she conceded. "But you just never seemed the type to do something like that. It's more like something Fred and George would get involved in."  
  
"Well, that's why they always get caught and I don't," I said frankly. "If you don't fit the profile, you can get away with anything."  
  
"You're a Slytherin, but they still don't suspect you?" Ginny asked. "No fair!"  
  
"What can I say?" I asked, smirking. "The teachers love me. Of course, that's probably because I'm the only Slytherin who doesn't sleep the whole time, but the fact still remains that they think I'm a somewhat decent person."  
  
"'Somewhat decent'?" Ginny echoed. "Hardly. A somewhat decent person would've left me to Filch and saved himself." She glanced at me, a grin playing at her lips. "What you did was almost worthy of a Gryffindor."  
  
"Remind me to never do anything like that again, then," I said with a slight grimace. "And I'd appreciate if you didn't mention that to anyone else; it'd completely shatter my image."  
  
"Like anyone would believe me," Ginny replied, smiling. "Slytherins aren't capable of being respectable in any way, after all."  
  
"Silly me," I said dryly. "I forgot for a moment there."  
  
Over the course of our conversation, we'd climbed several floors and, to the best of my knowledge, were fast approaching Gryffindor Tower. I wasn't sure of its exact location, of course, but every respectable Slytherin had a pretty good idea.  
  
Ginny must have realized this as well. "Is there a special reason why you're following me?"  
  
"I'm not," I said innocently.  
  
"Oh, sorry," she replied, rolling her eyes. "Let me reword that: Why are you stalking me? Forgive me if I'm wrong, but I'm quite certain the dungeons aren't on this floor."  
  
"I'm not /stalking/ you, Ginny," I said, trying to sound offended. "I prefer to call it 'escorting'. 'Stalking' just has such a negative connotation to it."  
  
"Oh, well if you're /escorting/ me, I suppose it's all right."  
  
"I'm glad you see it my way," I said with a grin.  
  
Ginny smiled, pausing beside a small side-passage. "Still, this is where I'll leave you. Any farther and you might discover our well-hidden and /very secret/ Common Room entrance."  
  
"Hey, isn't that huge picture of a fat lady down there?" I asked casually. "The one in the pink dress?"  
  
"No," she said flatly. "That's a different one."  
  
"But I could've sworn--"  
  
"No, you're wrong. That's a different corridor that looks exactly the same."  
  
"Ah. My mistake."  
  
"Anyway, I'm sure we both need our rest," Ginny said, backing down the hallway. "You know what tomorrow is don't you?"  
  
"Er... Tuesday?"  
  
"Exactly!" she replied, grinning. "'Night, Blaise."  
  
"Goodnight, Ginny."  
  
The girl turned and disappeared down the darkened hallway, leaving me to wander back down to the dungeons and wonder when I'd suddenly become the only normal person in the castle.  
  
*******  
  
A/N: Wow, I never expected such a strong reaction to Blaise's antics. Actually, I hadn't even considered that happening until that very moment, so you've got a randomly appearing plot bunny to thank for that one.  
  
I apologize for this chapter dragging on so much and taking so long to get done. I knew where I wanted to go, but I wasn't sure how I should get there. Also, I'm finding school a lot harder this year, thanks to College Algebra. On average, I've spent two hours a day trying to make sense of it, but math has always been my worst subject by far. As disturbing as it sounds, it was actually a relief to go back to work this weekend. No homework!  
  
Anyway, cheerleading is very stressful. It's just my luck that my team is made up entirely of egotistical wenches who whine like spoiled two-year- olds if things aren't exactly the way they want it to be. In addition to that, our district is thinking of cutting cheerleading altogether, and their final decision hinges on how well our team does this season. Our coaches told us to spend every free second on cheerleading, but guess what? /I'm not!/ *gasp! shock!* I'm such a bad kid.  
  
On the plus side, my email's spam-control filter thing has suddenly decided to work. Aren't you glad?  
  
Next chapter: Conflicts of interest and a dash of Gryffindors. Stir well and let boil.  
  
Rosaline: I realize it was awfully mean to put Blaise next to Pansy the whole match, but, like I've said before, I'm just not a very nice person. Besides, it made the whole thing more fun for me to write. So there!  
  
Gkey: Hey, Draco's not /that/ bad of a Quidditch player. The way I see it, he almost always catches the Snitch, with the obvious exception of when he plays against Harry.  
  
JeanB: *hides* Please don't hurt me! I'll do anything you want! .... oh, you were kidding? Right, I knew that. *laughs nervously* I'm glad you're willing to wait a month for a chapter, even though you really shouldn't have to. Anyway, I think there'll be some Gryffs in the next chapter, so keep your fingers crossed.  
  
Sequ3stered: Why is everyone threatening me today? Golly, I might get the impression you people don't like me... You want Draco to die? I'm sure that could be arranged, but not before Pansy is taken care of, if you know what I mean.  
  
TheStarsBright: *gasp* I'm on your favorites list? Oh, I think I might just pass out from happiness... I'm not sure how that works, but still.  
  
Kirjava Deamon: Hey, I can't tell you if Blaise and Ginny will get together! Why, you ask? Because I don't know! So there! By the way, if you want a lake, I'm sure the state government would be more than willing to loan you one. They might not have any money, but they've got lakes up the wazoo!  
  
Faxton: I suppose I can forgive you for taking a few days to review if you can forgive me for taking such an atrociously long time to update. Deal? I wouldn't want to lose my most loyal reviewer because of uncontrollable circumstances, or even controllable ones, for that matter.  
  
SuperHyperBerryBomb: Ahh! They're dying off! Quick, throw in a contrived plot device! We may still be able to save her!... *cough* Anyway, as fun as it would be to set Fae after Pansy, I don't think Blaise would go for it. He'd rather take care of it himself. *grins evilly* Fun, fun...  
  
Dark Comet: *thinking hard* Pansy... and a cupboard... I don't understand... *someone rushes in, whispers something in her ear, then promptly disappears. Akamu's eyes go wide* Ohhhhhhh! That's just /wrong!/  
  
Thanks to all my reviewers! You're my motivation to keep plugging along, even when all I want to do is pass out on the couch. Also, if the next chapter takes this long to get out, you have full permission to send steaming piles of crap to my door. Kudos! 


	15. My Life as a Teenage Pyro

"... so you can see that, with enough power, prolonged exposure can cause rather uncomfortable disfigurations on the victim," Fae said, adding finishing touches to a rather graphic drawing on the board and turning to face the class. "Thankfully, this curse is in no way fatal. It was, however, very popular as a torture device back in the early 17th century..."  
  
I yawned widely, which earned me an exasperated glance from Fae. Had I been in a better mood, I may have actually cared. My day had started on a record low and had been going downhill from there. Draco was pointedly ignoring me, which was the main cause of my ill humor, and Pansy was being unusually cold. This wouldn't have been a problem, really, but Pansy seemed to think she had something to prove, so she went out of her way to bug the hell out of me.  
  
To top it all off, I was bored out of my mind. True, Fae's lessons were more interesting than most of our previous Defense teachers' had been, and since my aunt didn't believe in textbooks, we hardly ever had homework. None of this, however, made lectures any more bearable. All I could do was count down the minutes till the bell rang so I could shuffle off to my next class and start the process over again. Such are the joys of being a student.  
  
My day, which was already going wonderfully, got even better when Fae returned her attention to the board and began explaining how the counter- curse worked. Once she wasn't looking our way, a small ball of parchment flew across the room and bounced off the side of my desk. It was followed moments later by another.  
  
Instead of looking around to see who'd thrown it--really, I'd have to be exceptionally stupid not to know already--I picked up one of the crumpled balls and hid it under my desk. I muttered a few words and tapped it with my wand, ignoring a bit of parchment that narrowly missed my head. Smirking, I checked to be sure Fae was busy scribbling on the board, then flung the thing back to the desk Pansy and Cassandra were sharing.  
  
The ball flew across the room in a graceful arc, landing on directly on top of a stack of parchment, which immediately burst into flames. Pansy squealed, successfully attracting the attention of the entire class, and attempted to beat the flames out with her sleeve. All this accomplished was setting her robes on fire. Stupid girl.  
  
Pansy jumped up, knocking her chair over in the process, and tried to put out the flames by flapping her arm wildly, looking rather like a disabled bird trying to fly. It would have been exceptionally funny had Millicent and Cassandra not been screaming like a banshees, giving me a horrible headache.  
  
Quite suddenly, the flames were extinguished by a jet of water, which effectively drenched everything within a five-foot radius of Pansy. The girl stopped jumping around quite suddenly, the cold water shocking her into stillness. She seemed to be stunned. It's not every day you get set on fire, I suppose.  
  
Unfortunately, she knew exactly who was responsible. Her slightly unfocussed gaze locked on me, her eyes narrowing dangerously.  
  
Oh dear.  
  
At the front of the room, Fae slowly lowered her wand. "Are you all right, Miss Parkinson?"  
  
Pansy glared at me a second more before answering. "Yes, I'm fine, Professor. Just a little wet," she said, indicating her still dripping robes.  
  
Fae nodded. "You may go to your dorm and change if you'd like, Miss Parkinson. I'll have someone bring your things to your next class."  
  
"Thank you, Professor." Soaked to the skin and scorched slightly, Pansy marched out of the room with as much dignity as she could muster, considering the circumstances. That didn't make her look any less ridiculous, however.  
  
An uneasy silence settled on the class as the door clicked shut once more. I didn't dare look behind me to see Draco's reaction. However, this left me no choice but to face the front where Fae was looking decidedly pissed.  
  
"Mister Zabini," she said curtly. "I'd like to see you after class, if you don't mind."  
  
I swallowed hard, realizing that I was in very serious trouble.  
  
The rest of class passed without incident, though the bell sounded much sooner than I'd have liked. Fae, not caring that class was officially over, yelled over the commotion of students hastily stuffing their things back into their bags. "I want three feet of parchment on the Effacius Curse. Miss Bulstrode, mind that you write in a somewhat reasonable size this time. I'd hardly call four sentences a proper essay."  
  
Fae waited until the rest of the students had left, then closed the door quietly behind them. "I was under the impression that Slytherins were intelligent," she said dryly, leaning against her desk and crossing her arms. "I'm hoping you're the exception to the rule."  
  
"Fae--"  
  
"Don't 'Fae' me, Blaise," she snapped. "This is getting ridiculous. You're fifteen, and yet I still find myself baby-sitting you. Why is that, do you suppose?"  
  
Regardless of what Fae may think of my intelligence, I was not stupid enough to answer.  
  
"Blaise, if you carry on like this, you're liable to be expelled sooner or later," Fae continued. "The only thing that's saved you so far is there hasn't been enough proof to nail anything on you. Eventually, your luck will run out and you'll have a hell of a lot of explaining to do."  
  
She paused for a moment, apparently expecting some sort of response or apology. When I failed to oblige, she sighed and went on. "Personally, I'm tired of chasing you around, trying to get you to behave in a somewhat decent manner. Now, I'd normally take points for this type of blatant disregard for the rules, but I'd like to see Slytherin in the running for the House Cup, at the very least, and I fear if I dock points every time you do something stupid, we'll end up in the negatives. Therefore, I'll skip that part and give you detention instead."  
  
I almost sighed in relief, then had a sudden thought. "Er... who will these be with?"  
  
Fae grinned evilly. "Me, of course. I want to make sure you're properly punished."  
  
I groaned and let my head fall against the desk. That woman thrives off the pain of others, I swear.  
  
My wonderful aunt just laughed at me. "Oh, come on. You didn't think I'd let you off easy, did you? You'll report to my office /precisely/ at seven each night for the rest of the week, plus the Monday after next."  
  
"I hate you," I grumbled, my voice somewhat muffled by the desk.  
  
"Sorry, didn't catch that," Fae said cheerfully. "What did you say?"  
  
I raised my head to glare mildly at her. "I said, 'why are you giving me next week off?'"  
  
"It's Halloween," she said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. At my blank stare, she rolled her eyes and elaborated. "Halloween, Blaise. Only the busiest time of entire year. Ghouls, ghosts, and undead creatures. Any of that ring a bell?"  
  
This, of course, left me feeling extremely stupid. She was a Slayer, after all, and Halloween always brought out an unusually high number of dark creatures, though whether it was simply because of tradition or some magical significance, I couldn't say.  
  
"Oh."  
  
"'Oh' is right," she said flatly. "I have previous engagements that require my attention. I'll be leaving on Monday and will probably be gone until Sunday at the latest. If, by chance, I'm kept longer than that, we'll reschedule your remaining detention once I get back."  
  
"Well, /that's/ a relief," I said sarcastically. "I'd have lost a lot of sleep over that one if you hadn't cleared it up."  
  
"That's what I'm here for," Fae replied. "Now, unless I'm mistaken, you have a class to get to, and I have a bunch of seventh-years who are missing their Defense."  
  
Scowling, I shoved my things into my bag and stood to leave.  
  
"Wait a second," Fae said suddenly. She scribbled a bit on a piece a parchment and shoved it into my hands, then pushed my lightly toward the door. "Go on, get out of here."  
  
I was more than happy to oblige, shoving past a small crowd of Hufflepuffs that had congregated outside the door. Several shot me curious looks, but I ignored them and continued on my way.  
  
Rounding a corner, I unclenched my fist and skimmed over the parchment Fae had given me, my anger slowly ebbing away. She'd given me a pass for my next class so I wouldn't get in trouble. I suppose even Fae could be decent if she tried.  
  
Of course, it wasn't until I was nearly to the Ancient Runes classroom that I realized that she'd given me something much better, even if she hadn't meant to. She was going to be gone next week for Halloween. The first Hogsmeade weekend was on Halloween.  
  
I grinned. It seemed I'd be going to Hogsmeade after all.  
  
********  
  
The next few days passed in a depressingly similar manner, minus the near- death experiences. It soon became clear that Pansy was planning revenge, so I was almost grateful that I now had an excuse to avoid the Common Room and thus Pansy's wrath. A plotting Slytherin is a dangerous thing.  
  
Draco was also cooking something up, but it seemed to involve the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match that was coming up on Saturday. Still, it was best to avoid him just in case I was wrong.  
  
Whatever free time I had left was spent in the library with Ryan. His influence must have corrupted my mind because I almost didn't care that I spent more time there than anywhere else.  
  
Friday afternoon, I was once again in the library, futilely attempting to wade through my Ancient Runes assignment. Oh, the joy.  
  
"'It is four... less... the room'... what the hell?" I grumbled, flipping through my Ancient Runes dictionary to locate the symbol in question. Finally finding it, I skimmed over the passage.  
  
/n. room, quarters; quarter, as of an hour; adj. being one of four equal parts/  
  
Ah, that made it /so/ much clearer. It's four less the quarter!  
  
I was too busy glaring at my text, which I was convinced was being annoying on purpose, to notice Ryan approaching until he dropped an atrociously large book with a faded green cover on the table.  
  
"I found it," Ryan said without preamble, looking very pleased with himself as he took a seat across from me.  
  
"Found what?" I asked shortly, not really caring.  
  
"The Order," he answered with a grin. "I think I found it."  
  
My head snapped up, and I stared at him in surprise. "You're /joking./"  
  
"I'm not, actually." Ryan carefully opened the tome and turned to a page near the back. "There," he said, pushing it across the table and pointing near the bottom of the page. "Read that."  
  
Curious, I scanned the text.  
  
/Not much is actually known about the Order of the Phoenix. It has been linked,  
both directly and indirectly, to several outbreaks of violence over the years,  
though it is unclear when or even why it was founded. Some scholars believe  
it is a group of individuals who simply enjoy the killing, as some are wont to  
do; others say the Order is merely a title that rebel terrorist groups take on  
themselves to create the impression of greater precedence and scope. However,  
there is no solid proof to confirm or deny these theories.  
  
The earliest mention of the Order was in the early 16th century by Sir Alexander  
of Cornwall (see page 329) and is painfully vague.../  
  
It went on like that for several more paragraphs but didn't add anything useful. I looked up at Ryan, quite sure that I looked even paler than usual. "You think this is the Order the letter was talking about?"  
  
Ryan nodded. "I've been through half the library, and this is the only thing I've found that makes sense."  
  
I sighed and massaged my temples, trying to fend off a migraine. Why did these things always happen to me? "So Fae is somehow involved with a group of murdering sociopaths. Wonderful."  
  
"That's the way it looks," Ryan said thoughtfully. "But I could be wrong. I mean, I'm sure there are plenty of Orders out there. I just have to find it."  
  
"I hope you're wrong, Ryan. I really hope you're wrong..."  
  
********  
  
A/N: *glances about nervously* Hello? *silence* HELLOOOOO? *echo... echo...* Damn it, I knew this chapter was taking too long. All my readers have disappeared! *starts crying, but quickly stops when a rotten apple is thrown at her head* WHOOHOO! There's a couple of them critters still alive, I reckon. Yee-ha!  
  
I apologize for the unforgivably long time this took to finish, and you have full permission to stab me with poisoned sporks should you feel so inclined. I've spread myself a bit thin with all the crap I'm involved in, and I've lost my weekends to my job (DIE!) so that cuts into my writing time a lot. I think the next chapter will be out A LOT sooner, though. I've already started it and I actually know where I'm going with it. *gasp!* It's a miracle!  
  
Anyway, in an effort to get this chapter out a bit sooner, I won't be responding to each review this time, but I'll respond to a few of the questions and/or comments that I noticed. Thanks for being so patient with me and for all the encouraging reviews!  
  
--What's Hermione's problem with Blaise?  
  
The main reason Hermione started disliking Blaise was because he committed the cardinal sin: he insulted dear old Crookshanks, which is right up there with making fun of Ron and vandalizing textbooks. She continues disliking him because, quite frankly, he's annoying as hell.  
  
--Dude, where'd your plot go?  
  
The main plot has taken a backseat to Blaise's personal life in the past few chapters, but now it's back with a burning vengence (um... yeah). It should continue happily along unless I get blind-sided by another flying plot bunny.  
  
--Heehee, you should put this under 'humor'!  
  
As amusing as you may find this, I don't think it fits as 'humor'. Why? Because all the humor stories I've seen have summaries like "d00d, wouldnt it be kewl if ever1 in hoggwarts suddnly went gay?" and "It's Hogwarts: the Musical! Show-stopping numbers abound! It's REALLY REALLY funny! Really! Laugh, damn you!" Somehow, I don't see this story fitting in too well. The other stories would make fun of it and call it names, and it'd come home with an inferiority complex and I'd have to pay for the psychiatrist bill. It's just so much simpler this way.  
  
--Hey, you should put more Ginny in here, you know. *nudgenudgewinkwink* Maybe she'll let something slip about the Order?  
  
There will be more Ginny later. Not sure exactly how much later, but later. Also, even if she knew about the Order, I don't think she'd let anything slip. She's a smart girl, even if she is going out with a prat. *grumbles something about disgracing Ravenclaws*  
  
--*tapping foot impatiently* Hello?! Update! *raises spork threateningly*  
  
I'm sorry! I went through four or five drafts of this thing before I got something that didn't rub me the wrong way. I didn't want to post crap. The next one will be a lot longer, I swear! *sobs* I'm so /sorry/...  
  
Once again, thank you to everyone who reviewed and stuck around for this chapter. *gazes adoringly at reviewers, but in an entirely non-creepy, un- stalker-like way* 


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